


Do Me a Favor

by swhff



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swhff/pseuds/swhff
Summary: Erin Hammer is the daughter of KG Hammer, a former friend of John Teller with a grudge against SAMCRO. Erin is able to keep her distance from the club while maintaining a friendship with Chibs, but the task becomes impossible when she meets the club's Sergeant at Arms, Tig Trager. She's urged into his arms from one side, but warned she's dancing with the devil from another. Which side will she choose?
Relationships: Tig Trager/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 12





	1. A Favor for Jax

I had a big trip planned for the weekend. The family was traveling to the grandparents for a birthday party for my grandfather. My mother had requested everyone take off work to be there, as with my grandfather’s ailing health, it may be his last one. I had begrudgingly agreed, wanting to see him but dreading the 10 hour drive from Charming to Flagstaff. I had everything set. My bags were packed. I had put in for my days off at work. Everything was ready to go until I climbed in my car, turned on the air conditioner, and nothing but hot air blew.

Shit!

I had asked my dad to help me fix it. There was honestly nothing he could do. Only a mechanic could fix it. So, I asked my mom what mechanic she recommended, wanting desperately not to go to one of the only places in town. I was half-tempted to rent a car at this point.

“Why not Teller-Morrow?” she asked. 

I groaned, feeling sick even thinking about it.

“One of your friends must know how to fix an air conditioner,” she went on.

“Mom, I’d rather not. I’ll just rent a car,” I said.

My mom glared at me. 

“It’s going to be triple digits for the next week. You take your butt to TM and get it taken care of!”

I dismissed her order, not bothering to call and planning to go ahead and do the drive without air. That’s how desperate I was. Or at least, how stubborn I was. However, when my father called and told me he already got an appointment at the god forsaken shop, I had no choice.

“Cancel it,” I had said.

“Gemma’s waiting for you. Get your ass down there and do it,” my mom ordered.

***

I glanced around the car nervously as I pulled into the compound. The place was bustling with activity. Cars were coming in and leaving, the tow truck was parked beside the garage with a smashed Subaru hooked up, every bay was full, and there were at least 20 motorcycles lined up on the other side of the railing outside of the clubhouse. I looked over each black Dyna carefully, trying to pick out whose was whose. Some club bikes were missing. I could easily pick out Bobby and Chibs. Everyone else looked too much alike. I sighed in defeat and found a parking spot.  
I hopped out of my car and cleared the unbearably hot compound to the office. Inside, two fans were blowing and the window unit was blasting. I shivered when the cold hit my skin. I had no worn much on this trip. It was too hot to wear anything modest, but I tried. An old muscle tank that kept a nice breeze on my pits and ribs, frayed denim shorts that stopped mid-thigh, and ratty flip-flops. I knew I were a sweaty wreck, but I didn’t care.  
When I stepped inside, I found Gemma at the desk looking over paperwork, her reading glasses resting on the edge of her nose. As soon as the door opened, she looked up.

“He wasn’t kidding about that A/C, huh?” she asked. 

I shook my head.

“Nope. Hey, Gem,” I said.

She smiled and stood up to hug me. I hugged her back. She immediately felt how much heat I was putting off and leaned back to feel my cheeks.

“You’re beet red, baby. Sit down,” she ordered.

I did as I was told, grabbing a chair and pulling it up next to the desk, opting not to sit on the couch as I was indeed overheated. Gemma grabbed a water bottle out of the mini fridge and handed it to me. I thanked her and quickly cracked the lid off. 

“How long do you think it will take?” I asked.

Gemma shrugged and took her seat behind the desk.

“Two days at the most. That’s usual. We’ve been so damn swamped, though. Might be longer,” she replied. 

I stared at her in horror, suddenly realizing it would definitely be a day. I had completely forgotten to lock down a ride.

“Shit,” I whispered.

“Well, baby, we’ve been so busy since the heat wave hit. Lots of broken A/Cs, engines overheating. Summer time shit,” she replied. 

I nodded slowly.

“I’ll have to call Mom. Have her give me a lift,” I thought out loud. 

Gemma raised an eyebrow at me. I could see an idea in her eyes and I knew what she was thinking. I just hoped she wouldn’t go there.

“It’s fine,” she said with a shrug, “The guys are here. One of them will give you a ride, I’m sure.”

My throat ran dry, and not from heat overexposure. 

“That’s fine, Gem. I’m not—“

Before I could finish, the door to the garage opened and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned around to see a tall man, around six feet, wearing a sleeveless TM work shirt, bearing facial scars, and an unlit cigarette dangling out of his mouth. When his dark brown eyes fell upon me, his face lit up.

“Holy shit! Hey, darlin’!” he said. 

I smiled and stood up, relieved he wasn’t who I thought he was.

“Hey, Chibby,” I said happily, reaching up to hug him.

“Where the hell have ye been hidin’?” he asked, “Haven’t seen ye in a month!”

I parted from him and shrugged.

“Busy with work,” I said lamely.

It wasn’t necessarily a lie. I had been busy. I had also been busy avoiding the club at all costs. Chibs, of course, saw right through this and raised an accusing eyebrow at me. 

“Oh yeah?” he asked.

I bit my lip and looked away. Gemma stood from her chair. 

“You got a bay open?” she asked.

Chibs looked up at her and nodded.

“Aye,” he replied. 

Gemma gestured to me.

“Give Chibs the keys. They can get started on that A/C,” she said.

I nodded and handed my car keys to Chibs. 

“She’s gonna need a ride home,” she said as Chibs began to turn away. 

He paused and nodded.

“No problem,” he said, then winked at me and slipped back out the door. 

I finally let out a shaky breath. The sooner I leave, the better. 

Gemma could sense my unease. She eyed me suspiciously, crossing her arms. 

“So, your dad says you’re heading out to the grandparents for a few days,” she spoke up. 

I nodded.

“Grandpa’s having a birthday. Might be the last. We’re trying to wrangle the whole family,” I replied.

Gemma just nodded. The garage door opened back up and Chibs returned to grab a key tag and scribble my name on it. Following him was Gemma’s son, Jax Teller, wearing his leather kutte in place of a work shirt. When his eyes fell upon me, he smiled.

“Hey, darlin’. Long time, no see,” he commented.

I laughed and accepted the offered hug as he raised his arms. 

“Where have you been?” he asked. 

“Just busy,” I replied shyly. 

Chibs hung up my keys on the pegboard. 

“Chibs, why don’t you take her to the clubhouse. Go take your break,” Gemma suggested. 

Chibs shrugged. I, on the other hand, shot Gemma a nervous glance. I didn’t want to go anywhere near that clubhouse, much less stay any longer than needed.

“Absolutely,” he said, then slung an arm around my shoulders.

“Jax, I need to talk to you for a moment,” Gemma said.

Jax nodded and plopped down heavily on the couch. Chibs winked at me.

“C’mon, love,” he said.

I fell into step with him as we walked back out into the blazing heat.

“Chibs, I really shouldn’t,” I managed to splutter out as the front door to the clubhouse came closer and closer.

Chibs stopped and turned to me.

“What do ye mean?” he asked. 

I peeked up at him nervously. Chibs reached up and took my chin in his fingers.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’. One moment you’re bright red and now you’re pale as a ghost. What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly.

I looked down at my feet and wrung my hands. Chibs cupped my jaw and forced me to look back up.

“What’s the matter, love? Tell me. Are ye in trouble or somethin’?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“No, it’s not that,” I replied.

Chibs eyed me up and down, slowly realizing what was going on. 

“What are ye scared of?” he asked calmly. 

I swallowed thickly.

“Tig?” he asked. 

I kept my eyes down.

“He ain’t here, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just me, Jackie, and Bobby. Couple of club friends. Everyone else is on a run,” he replied.

I finally met his eyes. He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“C’mon. Let’s get ye outta this fuckin’ heat,” he spat. 

I laughed at that and followed him into the cold and dark cave that was the SAMCRO clubhouse. Chibs had a Crow Eater grab him a shot of whiskey. I opted for another water and sat down beside him at the bar. 

“We missed ye, love,” Chibs said, then downed his shot.

I let my thumbnail rake across the ribbing in the plastic water bottle.

“Why do ye not wanna see Tig?” he asked softly. 

I sighed in frustration.

“Can we not, Chibs?” I pleaded.

“Why?” he asked, “I thought you two had kinda a friends with benefits thing going?”

I reached up and rubbed my eyes, embarrassed. Chibs chuckled. 

He was not wrong. I had known _of_ Tig for a long time, but it wasn’t until about two years ago that we became good friends, and not until a year ago that we were just a little bit more the friends. We became more flirtatious, more touchy. The sex? That was a different story. 

“Yeah,” I said quietly. 

Chibs leaned down, trying to grab my line of focus. 

“What’d that bastard do?” he asked worriedly.

I laughed. 

“Nothing, Chibby. Um,” I sighed before continuing, “He drove me to my parents’ one night. Mom was having a dinner thing. Tig dropped me off, but we hung out in the driveway for a moment. He pulls me to him. Next thing I know my dad is hauling ass out the front door ready to punch him. He wasn’t even supposed to be home yet!”

Chibs burst out laughing and grabbed his whiskey bottle.

“Ah, shite, love,” he giggled, “What happened next?”

My face fell.

“Tiggy went home. I received a two-day long lecture about bikers and how I was just going to ruin my life,” I replied.

Chibs grunted.

“He used to ride with JT all the time! What’s his fuckin’ problem?” he exclaimed, pouring himself another shot. 

“He’s been hung up about the club for years. He’s not into bikers. At least, not the outlaw variety,” I replied. 

Chibs gritted his teeth and nodded.

“Aye,” he replied, “Right.”

I clasped the half-empty water bottle between my hands. 

“So, I thought about it. Thought about how things were going. Decided it was better to put some distance between us,” I explained.

Chibs exhaled slowly, nodding as my words sunk in. 

“Well,” he said, then reached up and took your hand, “Glad you’re back regardless. Even if it’s just today.”

I smiled at that. The more I spoke to the Scotsman, the more I realized how much I missed him. In being friends with the Teller family, I had known Chibs since he immigrated to California. He became as close to a best friend as I had in Charming. I had missed that gruff Glaswegian accent. He knew more secrets about me than my family. He had also been the one to introduce me to Tig Trager.

“Yeah, me too,” I agreed.

Chibs and I were silent for a moment, him taking another shot while my eyes were distracted by all of the posters, stickers, and wall art that littered the clubhouse walls. 

“He does miss ye, you know?” Chibs spoke up.

I looked over at Chibs, stunned by his comment. Then, my heart dropped. It had been a month, but that was a month too long from someone like Tig to go without. 

“I’m sure he’s found some Crow Eater’s pussy to bury himself in,” I said bitterly.

It was Chibs’ turn to look shocked. 

“Actually no,” Chibs replied, “He’s been dry. Hasn’t touched another woman since ye left.”

“And how in the hell could you know?” I snapped, “I hear how you guys talk!”

“Yes, and that’s fuckin’ guy talk!” Chibs argued, jabbing his finger into the table, “Don’t listen to us. I know he’s dry because he turns down the Crow Eaters, he’s usually always here, and I’m around him when he’s not takin’ a shit or sleepin’! Ye know who’s name is in his mouth damn near constantly?”

I put my face in my hands, propping my elbow on the wood and groaning loudly. 

“I might be wrong, but seems to me like ye two had more than just a friends with benefits business goin’ on,” he finished. 

I smeared my hands back across my cheeks and shook my head. 

“Chibs, we…we only had sex once, and I was so blitzed, I don’t remember shit,” I admitted, “Remember last New Years?"

Chibs straightened up and nodded.

“Oh yeah,” he replied, “I remember that night very clearly. In fact, I remember you two goin’ at it hard and heavy right here.”

Chibs pointed to the bar stool beside him. I sniffed humorously. That night was a crazy night. I had had Tig to myself for the evening. Things were getting heated, which made me nervous, so I drank and drank, then drank some more. Tig had tried to stop me, but I had been on an anxious role, drinking my nerves away. 

“Yeah. Do you remember what happened next? He took me back there to the apartment, and the moment my head hit the pillow, everything goes black. I don’t remember if it was good. I don’t remember changing clothes. Nothing,” I replied.

Chibs turned fully to face me.

“Ye really don’t remember that night?” he asked.

I shook my head. His expression was sad and sympathetic. 

“No? Why?” I asked.

Chibs took a deep breath before beginning. 

“Do you remember when he left the bar for a moment? Probably not,” he said.

I shrugged. 

“He got up a bunch to pee because of the amount of beer he had had,” I replied.

Chibs smiled. 

“He came lookin’ for me. Asked me what he should do. He’d never seen ye like that. I don’t think any of us had. I told him to take ye back to the apartment. I called Gemma. Had her run to your house and grab ye some clothes because there was no way we’d make it home with ye on the back of a bike. You couldn’t keep your hands off Tig. He took ye to the room, and when your head hit the pillow, you passed out.”

I felt my jaw drop. 

“Are you serious?” I hissed.

“Love, you were wasted. Tiggy was scared. Gemma managed to get ye up long enough to get ye in the shower. Helped ye change. Tig? He sat up with ye all night. Making sure ye were okay. Holdin’ that trashcan under your head while ye puked your guts up.”

I had no idea what to think or say. I had always thought that we had done it and that he had gone to get my clothes and return, which now made absolutely no sense. We never spoke of that night again. 

“Wow,” I whispered.

Chibs leaned over and grasped my shoulder. 

“He didn’t wanna take advantage of ye while you were drunk. Now, if that doesn’t tell ye that you mean somethin’ to him, I don’t know what will,” he finished. 

I felt like garbage now. He had been trying so hard to make things work, and I had missed all of the signals. 

“I’m sure he’d never want to talk to me again,” I said bitterly. 

Chibs paused for a moment before smirking. Yet again, another missed signal. Once I finally realized why he was grinning, it was too late. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he sang. 

I only had two seconds to look up at him when a pair of arms would around me and I yanked high into the air. All I could do was scream and grip the arms holding me.

“Hey, doll,” a deep, soft voice came from just behind my ear—a voice I knew all too well. 

The intruder set me down and I was finally able to turn around. In front of me stood the man himself. There was no mistaking him. Wild, curly brown hair, piercing blue eyes, wicked grin. He was accompanied by the intoxicating smell of cheap cologne and leather. It was like the first time we realized something was different.

“Hey, Tiggy,” I said, now relieved to see him. 

He brought me back into a hug and kissed my cheek.

“What are you doing here? Where have you been?” he asked. 

I laid my head on his chest as I hugged him, not tall enough to get my chin over his shoulder.

“Hmm?” he asked, pressing his mouth and nose into my hair.

“Just busy. A/C went out in the car,” I replied. 

Tig stepped back, holding me by the shoulders. 

“Dammit. Wait. Do you need a ride? Are you going to be staying for a little while?” he rambled. 

I smiled at him, watching excitement spark in his eyes. 

“Tiggy,” Chibs spoke up.

Tig looked over at his brother. He smiled.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere. I’ll take her home when she’s ready,” he said. 

Tig scoffed. I eyed him suspiciously, wondering why he couldn’t ride. 

“Did you get your license suspended again?” I asked.

Tig slowly put his hands in his pockets, chewed him bottom lip, then quickly shrugged. 

“Yeah, something like that,” he replied. 

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Tig brought me back to him with no desire to let go. 

“I missed you, baby,” he murmured. 

I couldn’t hold back anymore. I missed him. I had missed him every day. He had no idea the pain, and if I had caused him the same…well, I’d rather not know. 

“I missed you, too,” I said. 

Across the room, the front door opened and Jax strolled in. The moment he saw Tig and I embracing, he grinned. 

“I didn’t think it would take long for him find you,” he said.

A growl rumbled through Tig’s chest. 

“Hey! Shut up!” Tig barked. 

Jax just laughed and stopped in front of us. Tig let me go, but only to keep one heavy arm draped over my shoulders.

“So, Mom says your heading out to Arizona for a few days,” he said. 

Tig went rigid.

“Huh?” he asked. 

I just nodded.

“Family thing. Grandpa’s having a birthday. Might be the last. Wanted everyone to go,” I replied. 

I could see the wheels of thought turning behind Jax’s eyes. He fought to hold back a grin.

“What?” Tig snapped. 

Jax smiled at me. 

“Could you do me a favor?” he asked. 

I felt my heart sink. 

“What kind of favor?” I asked apprehensively, knowing damn well any time a Son asked for a favorite, it ended in chaos. 

Jax glanced up at Tig. 

“What? Oh, hell no!” Tig argued. 

Jax’s smile failed to falter. He had his mind made up.


	2. A Kind Gesture

“What the hell are ye talkin’ about, brother?” Chibs hissed. 

Jax looked around the clubhouse. Crow Eaters and hang-arounds were crawling everywhere, club friends were in earshot, and Clay had just entered the building with Bobby in tow. Jax grabbed Tig and Chibs by their wrists and I followed them into the dark hallway beyond the kitchen and into the apartment. Jax closed the door behind us, then turned back to me.

“Take Tig with you,” he said. 

All three of our jaws dropped.

“What?” we exclaimed in unison.

Jax held his hands up in defense. 

“Only for a couple of days,” he continued.

“No!” Tig protested.

“Why? What’s going on?” I asked worriedly.

Tig puffed up his chest and paced away, frustrated. I eyed Jax suspiciously. 

“Tig’s been on lockdown here for the past week,” Jax said.

I closed my eyes and groaned.

“Jesus,” I whispered, “Feds?”

“No,” Chibs replied, “Problem with brown.”

All I could do was shake my head. Tig had always been one to act on impulse. He followed his instincts, often before getting a second opinion on what move he should take. I was not surprised, but it made me worry about him all the more. It was hard to wrangle him. 

“He only has to stay low for a few more days until he’s in the green. A road trip will do him some good,” he went on.

“Aye,” Chibs agreed, then side-eyed Tig, “God knows I’ve had enough baby-sittin’.”

Tig rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not going,” he protested. 

Jax groaned. 

“Why not?” he asked. 

Tig rushed Jax, getting in his face and poking a ringed finger into his chest. 

“Because if she gets hurt, it’s on me. I have a price on my head. She doesn’t,” he replied. 

I let out a shallow breath. I was beginning to understand that Chibs had been right. 

“When does it get settled?” I asked. 

Tig spun around to face me. Jax gave me a small smile.

“Soon. I have some kinks to unwind. Meets to set up,” he replied. 

I nodded. Tig angrily curled his lip at Jax.

“Look,” he continued, “No one knows your car. I can put our SoCal charters on alert. If you need any of them on the way, you can call. They’ll give you a hand.”

“I’ll escort them outta town. Get them on the highway safely,” Chibs offered.

Jax nodded at that. Tig’s eyes went wide. 

“What part of ‘no’ do you two not understand?” Tig exclaimed.

I watched Tig for a moment. All of my old feelings came rushing back. How badly I had fallen for him. How disgustingly head over heels I was, even now. And now, with the knowledge that he had been absolutely respectful on New Years while I showed my ass… I knew now what I really wanted, and it wasn’t space. I had been scared of where we were going in our weird little relationship. It had been getting serious. I knew Old Lady status was around the corner. I had backed out then. Now, I knew what I had to do. 

“Okay,” I finally said, “Let’s do it.”

Tig stared at me in horror.

“Baby, no,” he said firmly, “I’m not putting this on you. It’s my shit.”

“And I’m not going to sit idly by at a sad birthday party wondering if you’re still alive,” I argued, “I’m leaving Tuesday morning whether that car is done or not and you’re coming with me.”

Tig was stunned. Jax smiled and reached over to hug me.

“Thank ya, darlin’,” he said.

Chibs smiled and clapped a hand on my shoulder before he and Jax left the room, leaving me alone with Tig. It was only then I noticed the room also smelled thickly of him, and his clothes and belongings were littered everywhere. 

“Erin, listen to me. This is a really bad idea, okay?”

I held my ground, squaring my shoulders and smirking.

“How can I get hurt when I have Tiggy with me?” I asked.

Tig’s lips twisted into a smirk, icy blue eyes smoldering.

“Fine.”

***

Two Years Ago…

I had known the Teller family for the majority of my life. My dad had been a friend of the club—of JT. They rode and drank together. After almost accidentally getting killed in a wreck caused by a Mayan soldier who was after John, he swore off motorcycles and the club for good. He didn’t want me around SAMCRO. This had been an almost inescapable task after meeting Chibs.  
Chibs and I met at the Charming Christmas parade one year. I had run into Jax, who I hadn’t seen since high school. He had been a grade below me, and had dropped out his sophomore year. He still looked the same, acted the same. He was only slightly less cocky, and definitely much nicer than he had been when we were younger. He had never been a bully, by any means, but he had finally matured enough to hold a decent conversation. He introduced me to Chibs, who had only just moved to Charming. We hit it off instantly. He was hard to understand at times, his accent being thicker than now, but he was kind, funny, and a bit mouthy. We bonded over a love for horror films, and that was it. Our friendship had never progressed to anything more than friends, but that did not make a difference. We enjoyed our time together.  
I had never been in the SAMCRO clubhouse until finally Chibs invited me. He and Jax were staying out at the clubhouse late, holding down the fort. Most of everyone had gone home for the night. However, that did not make me any less nervous.

“Hey! You're my guest,” Chibs had said, beer dangling from his fingers, “Fuck ‘em!”

I just had to laugh. He was, in so many words, rotten, but he was a genuine and courteous man. Those things were rare with the wolf pack known as the Redwood Original.  
Chibs, Jax and I were sitting under the fluorescent lights under the overhang, just outside the clubhouse door, taking up residence on a battered picnic table. Jax had settled for an old metal chair. Chibs sat on the top of the table, boots propped on the seat. I sat at his feet, starting to feel sleepy from the alcohol in my system. I had only had one drink, but it was enough.

“Ya got a light?” Jax asked.

Chibs reached into the pocket of his cut and tossed his VP a Zippo. Jax thanked him and lit up. At the street, the rumbling of motorcycles alerted us. We looked up to see two black Harley’s swoop in. At the office of the garage, I saw Gemma emerge in the doorway, smoke streaming from her lips as she puffed on a cigarette.  
Jax tossed the lighter back to Chibs.

“Wonder how tha’ went down,” Chibs said, gesturing to the two men dismounting their bikes.

“I don’t wanna know,” Jax replied.

The two men who approached us were two of the most intimidating men I have ever met in my life. The first to walk up was an older man, gray hair, massive arms, sporting a black hoodie under his kutte. Had I not already met him a thousand times before, I would have been scared shitless.

“How’d it go?” Chibs asked.

The first man shrugged.

“Business as usual,” he replied.

When his eyes fell on me, he smiled.

“Erin, what are ya hanging around these idiots for?” he teased.

I smiled.

“Nice to see you, too, Clay,” I replied.

The MC President chuckled and reached down to hug me.

“How are your folks?” he asked.

“Pretty good,” I replied.

Clay put his hands in his jeans pockets.

“Dad still won’t touch a bike, huh?” he asked.

I shook my head. It was then my eyes fell upon the man standing behind him. This man was just as tall as Clay if not several inches taller, with wild curls, dark mustache and goatee, blue eyes narrowed at me. He stood like a rock with his hands on his hips, staring me down. I kept my eyes cast down, not sure how to read the guy. He looked like he could kill me in a snap.  
Chibs gestured to the man.

“Erin, this is Tig. I don’t think the two of ye have met,” he said.

The man let his shoulders drop at the mention of his name.

“Tig, this is Erin Hammer. Erin, Tig Trager,” Chibs introduced us.

Tig nodded and offered his hand. I nervously shook it. His hand was absolutely massive, and rings adorned almost every finger.

“Nice to meet you,” I said shyly.

Tig’s eyes darted to his President, avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah,” he said distantly, “You, too.”

I let my hand fall back to my lap. Chibs patted my back.

“C’mon, love. I’ll take ye home before you crash on me,” he said.

Relieved, I nodded in agreement. Tig’s eyes were still set on me, and they didn’t break away until he could no longer keep his head turned as he followed Clay inside the clubhouse. I stood up with Chibs, saying goodnight to Jax and walking out to his motorcycle.

“He seemed like a dick,” I murmured once we were far enough away from Jax.

Chibs grinned.

“Nah. Tiggy’s alright. Bit of odd one, I’ll admit, but he’s a big softy,” he replied.

I rolled my eyes.

“I have a hard time believing that,” I said.

Chibs mounted his bike. I buckled my helmet on and followed suit.

“Did you see him staring me down, though?” I asked.

Chibs smirked.

“Maybe he likes ye,” he teased.

I could only roll my eyes and hold onto his sides as he started the machine and we rolled out of the compound.

***

A few weeks later, Tig walked into the garage office, hands on his hips, a look of bewilderment on his face. 

“What the hell is wrong with me, Gem?”

Gemma looked up from searching through the computer for car parts. She raised an eyebrow at him and pulled her glasses down. 

“Do you want me to answer that, Tigger?” she asked with a laugh. 

Tig gritted his teeth and paced the room. Gemma’s amusement fell to the wayside. Something had upset the Sergeant at Arms to the point where he was coming to his best friend’s Old Lady for help. Gemma and Tig had always been close. Tig was Clay’s most trusted soldier, and the only man he trusted to protect Gemma. Tig looked up to Gemma. He also had a bit of a crush on her, but then again, so did most of the men in the club. He knew he could confide in her. A shoulder to cry on, should the rare need arise. So, when he came to her pacing a rut in the floor, she knew it was serious. 

“What’s the matter?” she asked, now concerned. 

Tig paused and shook his head.

“Do all women just hate me, or what?” he asked. 

Gemma snorted. 

“I thought you told me women couldn’t keep their hands off of you,” she quipped.

Tig rolled his eyes and looked out the window. Gemma followed his line of sight, finding Chibs and Jax outside with Jax’s girlfriend, Dr. Tara Knowles, and another dark haired woman. It suddenly clicked with Gemma. Her lips slightly parted before twisting into a smirk. She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced at Tig. 

“Erin, huh?” she asked. 

Tig looked down, slightly embarrassed. Gemma knew the story. Of course, she knew. Jax had already told her about their friend’s introduction to Clay’s right-hand man. It had been awkward, to say the least. She had already asked Chibs about it. 

“Even when I simply say hi, she gives me the cold shoulder,” Tig said.

Gemma laughed.

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s scared shitless of you,” she explained. 

Tig’s eyes widened and jaw dropped.

“C’mon!” Tig whined, “I don’t bite.”

Gemma shot Tig a deadly look. She knew that to be a lie.

“I mean,” Tig corrected, “It’s not like I’m going to hurt her.”

Gemma nodded, seeing right through him. 

“Well, she doesn’t know that,” she said, then decided to change the subject, “Are things looking up, or am I going to have to call the girls in?”

Tig sighed. 

“Jax said you ran into that ATF bitch this morning,” he said. 

Gemma nodded. 

“Yeah,” she murmured, then returned to her chair, “They’re coming after the women.”

Tig nodded. The ATF had been on the club’s backs for a while now, and now the Old Ladies were being targeted. Next would be friends. 

“I want Erin on lockdown, if it happens,” Tig admitted.

Gemma was shocked. 

“She wouldn’t rat,” she said. 

Tig shifted his weight to one foot, keeping his mouth shut. He had already said too much. It was very clear to Gemma where he was going with this. However, she was surprised he had taken so much interest in the one woman he couldn’t get to look him in the eye. 

“This your way of winning her over? Get her alone at the clubhouse? Don’t you ruin that girl, Tiggy,” she warned.

Tig’s anger sparked. He was actually slightly insulted Gemma thought he was trying to get into the woman’s pants. That had not been it at all. When Gemma realized she had said the wrong thing, she was shocked.

“Are you serious about her?” she asked.

Tig shrugged. 

“I just want her protected,” he said sternly.

Gemma smiled. That was indeed one way to show he cared. 

“I think she’d probably appreciate that,” Gemma said.

Tig nodded, now a little more confident. 

“Alright, Tig, but you know what will happen if you break her heart. Chibs will cut you into a million pieces,” she warned. 

Tig smiled. 

“I don’t plan on it,” he said, then turned around and left for the garage. 

Gemma watched after him, dumfounded. 

***  
Several weeks went by before I encountered the man known as Tig Trager again. This time, it was under entirely different circumstances. Things with the club had been quiet. Too quiet. I had not been to the clubhouse at all, nor had I spoken to Jax or Chibs. It was almost instinctual—this feeling of doom. A sticky feeling lingered in the air, as if something was about to happen. It was like the thin air before a lightning strike. I knew I was right when I heard a motorcycle outside of the antique store I was working at, looking out to see Chibs hurry in, a Prospect waiting beside him.

“Ah, shit!” I hissed, setting a pack of copy paper down that I had been going to take to the office. 

Chibs strode in, pulling his sunglasses from his eyes and setting them around his neck. I knew something was up when I saw how flushed his cheeks were.  
The club never came by the store, especially not in kuttes. If for some reason they did, for example, Chibs picking me up or even Gemma swinging by, they parked in the back parking lot. Low profile. No colors. It was their way of keeping friends and family safe. Should an enemy of theirs see one of them walking into certain places, a target was instantly marked. Needless to say, my boss hated it. Thankfully, she was off today.

“Hey,” I said worriedly.

Chibs stopped in front of the counter and rested his hands on the glass top.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, already knowing what he was going to say.

“Club’s on lockdown,” he announced. 

Knew it!

“Oh, hell!” I exclaimed.

“I need ye to come to the clubhouse. It’s just a precaution,” he continued. 

“Chibs!” I groaned, “It’s noon. I can’t just shut down now! My boss would fire me!”

Chibs gritted his teeth and shook his head.

“Look. I’m safe. I’m carrying. I’ll be good,” I assured him.

Chibs’ nostrils flared. 

“What time do ye get off?” he asked.

“5:00,” I replied, “I may be able to lock up sooner if we stay dead.”

Chibs nodded, deep in thought. 

“‘Kay. I’ll send Tiggy down here to get ye,” he said. 

I felt my heart jump and I stared at him in shock.

“What?” I squeaked out.

“He’s stayin’ behind. Helpin’ Gemma hold down the fort. The rest of us are headin’ out right now. Gettin’ shit settled,” he explained.

I stared at him with wide eyes. 

“No way,” I said lowly. 

“Erin!”

“Chibs, I don’t think I’ve said more than 15 words to the man!” I argued. 

“You’re just as safe with him as any of us,” Chibs assured me.

I searched his face for a moment. I noted the fear and worry in his dark eyes, the obvious exhaustion. It did no use to argue. Something was bad wrong. 

“I trust him. You’ll be fine,” he said, now in a much softer tone.

I could only nod.

“Fine. What about my parents?” I asked.

“Clay’s got protection on them. They’re fine,” he replied. 

I nodded again.

“If he’s an asshole to me, Chibby—“

“I’ll break his nose,” Chibs said quickly. 

I had to smile at that. 

“Okay,” I gave in.

Chibs smiled and reached over the counter to hug me. 

“Tig’ll run ye to your house so you can get your stuff. Don’t leave here until then,” he ordered.

“I won’t. Ride safe. Come back whole,” I replied.

Chibs smiled.

“Promise,” he replied. 

I put my hands in my pockets and watched as he placed sunglasses back over his eyes and walked out the door. I finally let out a growl. I wanted to punch my fist through the glass countertop.   
I glanced at the clock on a nearby computer. The time read 12:11 PM. I still had five hours to go. Five hours of being a nervous wreck until closing. A million unrealistic scenarios ran through my head, all of which involved the man being a total asshole. I was pissed things were going down with the club, and ready for a fight, should the need arise.   
I decided to calm myself with busy work. I did some light cleaning, organizing, answered the one call that came in, and helped an elderly couple who purchased a china set and a quilt. Afterwards, all was quiet. I figured I might as well work on my booth, and went to the backroom to fetch a box of books I was selling. I brought them up front to price, then took them to my booth at the far side of the room. I quickly got caught up in dusting shelves, reorganizing, and changing prices, that I did not realize what time it was. When the front door chimed, I jumped in surprise and looked over my shoulder. When I saw who had entered, my heart leapt into my throat.   
Tig had just walked in, making the doorway look tiny. He was a huge guy, maybe an inch or so taller than Chibs. His wild, curly hair gave them illusion of an inch or two more. His shoulders were not as broad as Chibs, but where the Scot was a teddy bear, Tig was a rock. His arms were heavily muscled, as was his chest. He had long legs that were most likely just as powerful. He normally had a very cold demeanor, but when he entered the shop, sporting only a black, short-sleeve button up and a knife holster strapped to his thigh, he looked somewhat normal. Only somewhat. His eyes found me at the booth near the back immediately. 

“Hey, doll,” he said. 

I froze, nearly choking on air when he spoke. As I had told Chibs, Tig and I had only exchanged a handful of words since we met. Most of which were simple “Heys.” He had never greeted me with a nicety, especially that one. 

“Hi,” was all I could say, then turned away to finish my work.

I reached into the box for the heavy stack of books. I hefted them into my arms and searched the bookcase for a place to put them. Unfortunately, my only option was the top shelf. I sighed in frustration and lifted the stack up. Once I thought I had them straight and had achieved some kind of balance, I began to lift them above my head

“Hey,” a voice came from behind me.

The weight of the heavy books was lifted out of my hands, startling me. I turned to see a pair of ringed fingers easily encompassing the spines of the books.

“Here. I got it.”

Tig stood above me, leaving me frozen as he slid the books onto the top shelf. My eyes locked onto a leather cuff wrapped around his wrist, his lower arm muscles not even six inches from my face. 

“How’s that?” he asked.

It took me a moment before I could speak.

“Um, yeah. That’s fine,” I spluttered.

Tig lowered his arms and smiled at me. My heart fell out of my ribcage and onto the floor. Nearly any time I had seen him, his lip was curled in a sneer or he was simply too far away to tell. Up close, relaxed, was a complete turn around.  
I had to actually tilt my head back to look him in the eyes, but once I found his eyes, I couldn’t look away. Tig had the biggest, brightest blue eyes I had ever seen on a man. They highlighted his otherwise rugged appearance. Black mustache and goatee, crazy mane of curls, sharp cheekbones, and a silver chain draped around his neck. He had quite the hypnotic stare, and I had a hard time forcing myself to look away.

“Thanks,” I said shyly.

Tig gave me a lop-sided smile.

“Anytime, sweetheart. How’s business?” he asked.

My heart remained on the floor. Tig shuffled a step and a half, looking over the items in the booth.

“Not great,” I replied, pushing my own hands in my pockets, “Been pretty slow. Probably gonna have to shut down my booth. This booth.”

Tig nodded, giving me a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, then perked up, “This is your booth?”

I nodded. Tig walked back up beside me, eyes scanning the knickknacks and books.

“Wow. You got a lot of motorcycle stuff here,” he said.

I turned back to him, looking at the shelf full of Harley Davidson books and vintage merchandise. 

“Yeah. Dad’s old stuff,” I replied.

Tig just nodded.

“Ol’ KG,” he murmured, then glanced over at the locked cabinet at the back of the booth. 

Inside was mostly men’s and women’s jewelry. Vintage pieces I had picked up over the years. Nothing worth too much. However, there were few pieces at the back. One item in particular caught his eye.

“Oh, wow,” he gasped. 

I craned my neck to see him looking at an antique pocket knife. The handle itself was carved with tiny, meticulous details, with turquoise and silver pressed into it. Tig pointed to the glass and looked over at me.

“Do you mind if I take a look at this knife?” he asked.

I shrugged and unclipped my keys from my belt loop. 

“Not at all,” I replied.

I squeezed beside him, his larger frame not leaving much room in the small booth. As I carefully unlocked the cabinet, trying to mask the shaking in my fingers, I could smell him. For a guy who I knew smoked, ran around on a motorcycle all day, and hung out in the clubhouse most of the time, one would have thought the entire club would smell like a gym. Jax always reeked of cigarettes. Chibs would occasionally have whiskey on his breath, a cloud of Marlboro following him, sometimes weed, but he often carried more of a warm, woodsy smell. Tig may had faintly smelled of it, but it was masked by whatever cologne he was wearing. I could not place the scent. It was a cool, clean, masculine scent that reminded me of water. It briefly made me forget what I was doing.  
I opened the lid to the case and reached for the knife, carefully picking it up and handing it to him. Tig took the knife in his fingertips while I let the lid rest up against the wall. Tig’s eyes scanned the details in the wood, then opened the blade halfway.

“This is gorgeous,” he said.

I nodded and stood back, not wanting to leave the case unlocked and unsupervised. 

“You big into pocket knives?” I asked nervously, scratching behind my ear and avoiding his gaze. 

Tig shrugged.

“Sometimes. How much are you asking for it?” he asked. 

I swallowed thickly. Every time someone asked to look at the knife, and they saw the price tag, it went straight back into the case. 

“$250,” I replied quietly. 

Tig’s forehead wrinkled as he raised his eyebrows. 

“Really? I thought it’d be more. You don’t see these too often anymore,” he said.

I could only nod. He gingerly set the antique back inside the case. I reached for the lid and shut it. 

“Pretty cool,” he commented. 

I gave him a quick smile and locked the case. 

“I have a few more things to do. Then we can go,” I said.

Tig turned around to face me.

“Hey, take your time,” he said.

I had begun to turn away when I felt his hand on my shoulder blade. My skin erupted in goosebumps from head to toe, my body betraying me. I sucked in a short breath, in awe of my reaction to him touching me. 

“I’m gonna look around,” he said.

I nodded again and took my empty box, retreating to the back room. 

Once I had had a chance to breathe and then curse myself for acting like an awkward teenager, I finished up my closing duties at the register. I could just see the top of Tig’s head over the shelves as he browsed. I had a hard time focusing on counting down my till. What in the hell had come over me? He was basically a stranger to me. I didn’t know a thing about him. He had never been as nice or as talkative with me as he had within the last few minutes. Yet my mind hazed over, my chest felt fuzzy. I honestly felt stoned.   
Tig returned to the counter and to my complete and utter shock, set down a couple of motorcycle books and a set of shot glasses, all of which were from my booth. I stared up at him in surprise. He smiled softly and pointed to the booth as he dug his wallet out of his pocket. 

“I’ll take the knife, too,” he said.

I shuddered and stared at him. He responded with a wink. I numbly walked to my booth, retrieved the knife, and returned to the counter to check him out. His total was just over $300.   
I carefully wrapped his purchases, noting how heavy the books alone were. 

“Can you carry all of this on your bike?” I asked, handing him his change and receipt. 

“Nah. I brought the truck, anyway,” he replied. 

I breathed out a sigh of relief. I had briefly panicked about having to ride with him on his motorcycle. The idea of holding him, whether or not he was reckless when he rode, how nervous I was to be around him anyway. I was thankful he hadn’t rode now.  
Tig seemed to sense my unease as he took hold of the bags’ handles. 

“Wasn’t sure how comfortable you would be with a stranger,” he admitted.

I felt a smile tug at the corner of my mouth. That was thoughtful…

“Yeah,” was all I could manage to say.

Tig winked and took his bags. 

“I’ll let ya lock up,” he said. 

I stared after him as he turned and walked out the door. I was floored by his generosity, and even more so with myself. Maybe I had been wrong about SAMCRO’s Sergeant at Arms.


	3. Lightning in a Bottle

Present Day

The clubhouse at 6:00 in the morning was the most peaceful place on the planet. There was no one around except for the Crow Eater tasked to stock the bar, maybe another or a Prospect in the kitchen brewing coffee or making bacon. No loud music. No television. No motorcycles. The only sounds might have been the air conditioner blasting or the sound of someone snoring who had passed out on one of the couches. On this particular morning, there was nothing but the smell of coffee lingering in the air.   
The air in my car had finally been fixed. I had my bags packed and loaded, and I was parked just outside the clubhouse door, Chibs’ motorcycle parked in front of me. When Chibs and I walked inside, Tig was just rounding the bar with his bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes were slits and his hair was still wet from his shower. I had to laugh when I saw him.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” I said.

Tig smirked and snaked an arm around my waist. Once close, I could smell his shampoo and toothpaste on his breath. It brought me straight back to mornings with him.

“Morning, baby,” he said softly, voice gruff from disuse. 

I smiled as he kissed my hairline. I had definitely missed this. 

“You ready?” he asked.

I nodded. 

“Yeah. You got everything?” I asked.

He nodded and adjusted the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder. 

“All set,” he confirmed.

With that, he tossed an arm over my shoulder and we walked back out the door where Chibs was waiting, burning down a cigarette. He flicked it out when we emerged.

“All good?” he asked.

Tig and I nodded, stopping in front of him. Chibs gripped Tig’s shoulder, looking him dead in the eyes. 

“Ye listen to me,” he said, then reached for my shoulder with his other hand, grabbing my attention.

He watched us for a moment, his expression deadly serious.

“Both of you,” he continued, “I know how you two are. Especially left to your own devices. No funny business. Keep your heads on straight.”

Tig and I nodded. Chibs leaned in a little closer, gripping the back of Tig’s neck and a chunk of his curls. 

“Keep each other safe,” he said softly.

We nodded again.

“Of course, brother,” Tig replied, tightening his arm around me. 

Chibs nodded solemnly.

“Come back to me whole,” he said. 

We nodded again. Chibs pulled us into his chest.

“Love yous both,” he said, kissing the top of my head, then Tig’s cheek.

“Love you, too, Chibs,” I whispered.

Chibs took a deep breath and let us go. 

“Which way are ye plannin’ on goin’?” he asked.

“Head through Fresno. It’s quicker. I didn’t want to fight through Los Angeles,” I replied. 

Chibs nodded. 

“Too many eyes, as well,” Tig added.

“Aye,” Chibs agreed, “Well, Fresno is our last charter. After that, you’re in No Man’s Land. SAMDINO is your closest contact until the border. Ye got their phone numbers?”

Tig nodded. 

“All on speed dial,” he replied.

Chibs smiled at that. 

“Alright. I’ll get ye through Modesto. Call me if ye need me,” he said. 

“Absolutely,” Tig replied. 

Chibs hugged us once more before we moved to our respective vehicles. Tig and I plopped down heavily in the car and watched as Chibs started his motorcycle and began to move. 

“If you get tired, let me know. We’ll trade,” Tig offered. 

I smiled at him and reached over, taking his hand. He held my fingers in a death grip. 

After Modesto, Tig and I had settled into silence, listening to music and staring aimlessly out the window. My mind was still on what Chibs had told me about New Year’s Eve night. It made my month of silence make me look more like a piece of shit. It had not seemed to bother Tig in the slightest, but I knew we needed to talk. 

“Hey, Tig?” I asked.

Tig perked up and looked over at me.

“Yeah, baby?” he asked. 

I sighed and turned the radio volume down.

“I’m sorry,” I began, “For ghosting. That was shitty of me.”

Tig snorted.

“You were doing what you had to do. KG was pissed. I get it,” he said. 

He reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I smiled sadly. 

“I’m not the kind of man one would bring him to daddy,” he said jokingly. 

I had to laugh at that. 

“Shut up!” 

Tig laughed and turned his focus back to the traffic. I glanced over at him.

“You’re not mad?” I asked.

Tig shook his head.

“Why would I be mad?” he asked. 

I shrugged.

“I would be,” I replied. 

Tig smirked. 

“I don’t know, Erin. I’ve never been able to be mad at you,” he admitted.

I rolled my eyes. 

“Oh, please!” 

Tig shook his head defiantly. 

“Not once,” he insisted.

I let my amusement fall away.

“Um…Chibs told me about New Year’s Eve.”

Tig looked up in shock. 

“New Years?” he asked incredulously, “What are you talking about?”

I glanced at him nervously. 

“What really happened that night after I got shit-faced,” I explained.

Tig’s jaw dropped.

“Baby, that was what? Seven months ago?” he asked.

I nodded, focusing back on the road.

“Jesus Christ, Erin! Why are you bringing this up now?” he asked, his voice skipping an octave. 

“Because all this time, I thought we had had sex that night! When I told Chibs that you probably found someone new while I decided to be a dick and ghost you, he told me about that night. What really happened…how much I must have meant for you to take care of me like that.”

We stopped at a stoplight at the outskirts of a small town several miles north of Fresno. 

“That’s why I feel like garbage for leaving you in the dark this whole time,” I finished.

“Baby,” Tig said softly, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching over to hug me quickly. 

He leaned back and cupped my cheek, his palm big enough to almost entirely encompass the side of my face.

“I forgive you, if that’s what you need to hear. Okay? I forgive you. And yes, Chibby’s right. You mean the fucking world to me,” he said.

I let out a shallow breath, having no words for the man. Tig suddenly grinned, a playful gleam in his eyes. 

“You do make a pretty cute drunk, though,” he said.

I laughed and attempted to shove him away. He resisted. 

“C’mere,” he said lowly. 

I held his shoulder and he gently pressed his lips to mine. Heat pooled on my stomach as the kiss, like any kiss from, him grew heated very quickly.   
A honk came from behind the car, interrupting the moment. Embarrassed, I managed to nudge him away and stepped on the gas. He was grinning ear to ear, and flipped off the man who had honked and proceeded to speed around us. 

“Son of a bitch!” he growled. 

I laughed and shook my head.

“Stop it. We promised Chibs we’d be good,” I said. 

Tig laughed. 

“After that kiss, I can’t promise shit,” he said boldly. 

I laughed, but I could not blame him. There was something about him that always turned my arousal up to an 11. 

“We especially have to be good at my grandparents,” I warned.

Tig groaned and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Is your dad coming?” he asked. 

“No. Thank God,” I replied. 

Tig nodded. I inwardly groaned. I had not told them I was bringing a plus one, and would not even contact my mom until we reached the border. By that time, it’d be very late, and she could not turn Tig away. Shitty move on my part, but I did not want to play the 20 Questions game with her. She liked Tig just fine, but I did not want to excite her by introducing Tig to the family. She would think a wedding was on the horizon. 

“I just gotta figure out what to tell Mom,” I said.

“That boyfriend is coming to visit,” Tig replied without skipping a beat.

I burst out laughing, but Tig remained silent. When I realized he wasn’t joking, I froze. 

“Wait…what?” 

Tig just laced his fingers with mine and smiled.

***

Two Years Ago

Needless to say, the ride with Tig to the garage was awkward. I said nothing I sat in my seat, keeping my eyes forward. Tig had heavy metal blasting, and one could barely hear over the roar of the diesel engine. Tig guided the wide, heavy truck like it was nothing. I hadn’t realized I was watching his hands until he spoke up.

“So, you and Chibs,” he said. 

I jumped and looked over at him. He smirked. 

“Something going on there?” he asked. 

I snorted. 

“No,” I replied, “He’s just a friend.”

Tig seemed genuinely surprised. 

“Really? Huh,” he said. 

I raised an eyebrow at him. He was starting to relax a little. He was leaning back while he was driving, seemingly calm and collected. However, he wasn’t smooth or subtle. I had a feeling I knew what he was trying to ask. I plucked up courage and decided to play his game. 

“What about you? You married?” I asked.

I glanced at his hands, but nearly every finger bore a ring. 

“Nah,” he replied, eyes remaining on the road, “Divorced. Two girls. They’re both grown now.”

I nodded in acknowledgement and glanced over him. It was hard to tell how old he was. His nearly black hair did not have a speck of gray from what I could tell, and though fine wrinkles framed his eyes, those could have been developed by multiple factors. Stress. Smoking. Too much sun. Bad genetics. Other than that, he had fairly clear skin. He could not have been much older than Chibs. His neck was smooth, and though he had forehead wrinkles and frown lines, I did as well and I had developed those in my twenties. It was hard to tell. I assumed that he had his children young, though. 

“Ah,” was my response. 

Tig bit his bottom lip and eyed me up and down.

“So, no man, I’m guessing?” he asked. 

I smiled. Not subtle at all.

“Are you asking me if I’m single?” I asked.

Tig just shrugged, playing it off, but I could see a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. I narrowed my eyes at him. Chibs’ words were still bouncing around in my head. “ _…bit of an odd one, but he’s a big softy…maybe he likes ye…_ ”  
I was starting to find myself no longer so scared. 

“The answer to your question is yes,” I said. 

Tig’s eyes lit up. I had a feeling I was playing with fire. I didn’t know the man, but if Clay and Chibs trusted him, I was sure I could, too. Still, it was hard to resist. He seemed to have that devilish charm that could get a lot of women into trouble. I couldn’t help it, though. It also didn’t help that he was quite handsome when his lip wasn’t curled in a sneer.  
After stopping at my house so I could quickly pack a bag, we arrived at TM just as the sun was setting. Tig refused to let me carry my own bag, and walked behind me as we entered the clubhouse. Gemma was sitting at the bar having a smoke when we entered. She smiled at me and stood up. I greeted her and hugged her, looking around the clubhouse in confusion. There were a few women here, and fewer children. 

“Hey, baby,” Gemma said softly.

Tig set my bag on the bar top. Gemma reached over to hug Tig, kissing his cheek. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” she said.

Tig smiled. 

“Have you heard from Clay yet?” she asked. 

Tig shuffled and tossed an arm around my shoulders, making me freeze. A smile threatened to appear on Gemma’s lips. 

“Nah. He’ll check in when it’s done,” he assured her. 

Gemma nodded.

“Okay. Why don’t you go help the guys lock up?” she suggested.

Tig nodded and left, leaving me alone with the club matriarch. Gemma smiled and patted the barstool beside her. 

“Sit down, baby. How was work?” she asked. 

I grabbed my bag, scooting out of her way.

“Meh. Alright, I guess,” I replied distantly, “So, is the threat not that big? I thought it’d be more crowded than this.”

Gemma glanced around. 

“Just immediate family really. A select few friends,” she replied vaguely. 

I raised an eyebrow at her, knowing she wasn’t really going to tell me anything. 

“Just a precaution,” she said softly. 

I nodded. Gemma reached for the ashtray and snuffed her cigarette out.

“So,” she went on, “Did Tig behave?”

I smiled at that. 

“Yeah, he was fine,” I replied, “Really friendly.”

Gemma snorted. 

“Yeah. He’s a damn flirt,” she growled out. 

I nodded in agreement. She had that right!

“But,” she continued, “He’s got a big heart. Cares very deeply.”

I nodded slowly, absorbing her words. I thought back to the shop, and how he so kindly shopped my booth, knowing I was hurting for business. It really was generous of him. 

“He, uh, he did something kinda out there while I was closing earlier,” I said.

Gemma’s eyes widened. 

“Like what?” she asked. 

I clasped my hands together on the wooden bar top.

“He asked how business was going. I told him I was probably going to have to shut down my booth. Next thing I know, he’s walking up with a handful of stuff from my booth. Even bought that expensive knife I haven’t been able to move. Gem, he spent like, over $300. Saved my ass for another month,” I explained.

Gemma just smiled. 

“Did he now?” she asked. 

I nodded. Gemma laughed. 

“You know,” she said, “This wasn’t Chibs’ idea to put you on lockdown. It was Tig’s.”

I shuddered. 

“Huh?” I asked.

She smiled and nodded.

“Tig requested you be put on lockdown if shit hit the fan with the ATF. He wanted to make sure you were safe.”

My jaw hit the floor.

“Are you serious? Why me?” I asked in surprise. 

Gemma shrugged and began to stand up. 

“Maybe this is his way of making friends. But then again,” she paused and leaned over to my ear, “maybe he likes ya.”

I watched Gemma in astonishment. 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I exclaimed.

Gemma shrugged again as she began to saunter off.

“Did you ever think that there might be some truth to it, darlin’?” she asked. 

I could only stare in shock as she walked across the room to check on the other women.

***

Thunder rumbled in the distance, flashing lights strobing across the windows in the clubhouse. Everyone was asleep, with the kids in sleeping bags, some of the adults in cots, and the rest on the couches and chairs. I had managed to snag a couch in the corner, able to stretch my legs and get comfortable, but whether it was the weather or my own stress, I couldn’t sleep. It was 1:00 AM before I had enough.   
I sat up and grabbed my bag, digging for a secret item that I knew better than to have, but I was so desperate for sleep, I didn’t care. In a small side pocket was a lighter and a joint, which I snuck out of my bag and quietly tip-toed to the front door. Outside was dark, with only the lights from town just barely illuminating the compound. I walked out to the picnic table Chibs, Jax and I had smoked many a joint on, perched myself on top of it and lit up.   
To the west, thunder cracked the silence, and bright blue lightning created a crazy light show that had me so focused, I didn’t hear the door to the clubhouse open. 

“Hey,” a soft voice came from behind me. 

I jumped and spun around to see Tig standing behind me. 

“Whoops. Sorry, doll. Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he apologized. 

I shook my head. 

“No, it’s fine. Sorry,” I replied, waving the smoke away.

Tig sat down on the table top beside me, watching me with concern.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, “Other than blazing it?”

I laughed and glanced at the joint between my fingers.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I replied, then gestured to the roll, “My poor coping mechanism.”

Tig gave me a small smile, but he seemed concerned. However, he didn’t comment on it. I relit the joint, took a hit, then passed it to him. He smiled and took it, taking a hit off of it. As we sat in silence, I remembered my conversation with Gemma. 

“Hey, Tig?” I asked. 

Tig swallowed, holding the smoke for a moment before letting it go.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asked, voice constricted. 

He passed the joint back to me.

“Thank you,” I said, “For buying that stuff earlier. You didn’t have to do that.”

Tig watched me for a moment, eyes searching mine. I had a hard time reading him. Was he about to flirt? Was he going to say something shitty? Was he mad? Was he tickled?

“I know,” he finally said, tone light, “I wanted to.”

He picked at his jeans before smiling at me.

“You’re welcome, Erin,” he said, saying my name to me for the first time.

I couldn’t keep my cheeks from burning, and I took one more hit from the joint before passing the rest to him.   
In the distance, lightning flashed. The marijuana did make me relaxed, but Tig and I stayed out there all night talking. He had me laughing one moment, and trapped in an intense conversation the next. After that night, we became good friends. Chibs did not know what to think about our rapidly progressing friendship. All I knew was that I was having a blast, and if I was dancing with the devil, then so be it.


	4. A Favor for Tig

**One Year Ago**

Chibs knew a lot about Erin most people did not. Not her parents. Not Jax or even Gemma. She trusted him with her darkest secrets, not that she had many. She really only had two, and they went hand in hand with each other. The only other person who knew about one of these dark secrets was Tig. Her marijuana usage. He had asked Chibs if he knew about it. It was met with a groan by Chibs.

“What’d she say?” he asked Tig.

Tig shrugged.

“Her ‘poor coping mechanism.’ She got insomnia or something?” he asked.

Chibs simply shook his head.

“No,” was his only answer for Tig, leaving him to wonder what was actually up.

He found out soon enough. Chibs would have never told Tig without Erin’s consent, but under certain circumstances, he was forced to. 

Chibs was walking out of the clubhouse, following Jax into the afternoon sun. Clay, Tig and Gemma were outside talking and having a smoke. The mechanics were beginning their closing duties. All was quiet, until a late model truck roared into the compound at full speed. Its tires squealed to a stop right in front of them. Thinking the worst, Jax and Chibs jumped forward, hands on their guns. Tig snatched Gemma’s wrist, yanking her behind him and standing in front of Clay, gun drawn. The man inside the truck jumped out and slammed the metal door shut with a deafening crash. The man was tall, around 6’ with short blonde hair, matching mustache and goatee, gray-blue eyes, wearing a faded black t-shirt and light blue jeans. He was a bulldog of a man who looked like he would fit right in with the motorcycle club. In fact, he had at one time.

“Jesus Christ,” Jax growled.

“Ah, hell,” Clay said, then reached for Tig’s shoulder, “Put your gun away, Tiggy.”

Tig obeyed, but kept his eyes locked on the man. Clay smiled at him and offered his hand.

“KG! Brother!” he greeted cheerfully. 

Chibs, Jax and Tig exchanged uncertain glances. 

“Don’t give me that brother shit!” KG snapped, then pointed a finger at Tig, “Especially when your goddamn guard dog is pulling a gun on me.”

Tig’s anger ignited.

“Well, you sped in here like a bat out of hell! What the fuck was I supposed to think?” Tig snapped.

Jax turned to Gemma.

“Go inside, Mom,” he said quietly.

Gemma nodded and walked back into the clubhouse without a word. Clay kept his cool.

“What brings ya up here, man?” he asked.

KG’s eyes were wild with fury.

“Where’s my daughter?” he growled.

Clay was thoroughly confused. Chibs looked down at the ground and swallowed. Tig cast his eyes to Chibs. 

“Haven’t seen her,” Clay replied.

“Bullshit!” KG hissed, “I know she’s been up here with your trash pack. For some fucking reason, she can’t stay away.”

“We haven’t seen her, bro,” Jax spoke up.

KG sneered at Jax. 

“Yeah, that seems to be everyone’s story. I haven’t heard from her in a week. She won’t answer her phone. She’s not home. Figured she was here.”

Worry settled into Chibs’ chest. He had not seen Erin since the weekend before, nor could he get ahold of her. He knew what was going on.

“Who was the last to see her?” KG asked.

All eyes fell on Chibs. He shrugged.

“I haven’t seen her since last Friday,” he said.

He neglected to say that she had not been acting right then, but he refrained.

“I talked to her a few nights ago on the phone,” Tig spoke up.

KG looked like he could punch Tig between the eyes. 

“Now it all makes sense,” he said, all too calmly, “I could forgive the Scot, but you?”

“What makes sense?” Clay asked, even more confused.

KG slowly approached Tig. The Sergeant at Arms held his ground.

“That your boy here is messing around with my daughter,” he replied.

Tig scoffed.

“We’re friends. I haven’t—“

“Shut the fuck up!” KG roared, “You stay the hell away from my kid, you fucking freak!”

Chibs stepped in to defend Tig.

“KG, brother, there’s nothin’ goin’ on!” Chibs exclaimed. 

KG rolled his eyes and turned back to Clay.

“If she shows up here, call me,” he said darkly.

Clay nodded.

“Absolutely, brother,” he replied.

KG cut his eyes at Tig.

“Keep Psycho away from her. Piece of shit will probably get her killed. No telling what he’d like to do to her body.”

Tig lunged, infuriated.

“Why don’t ya say that to my face?” he barked out.

KG leaned away. Chibs and Jax grabbed Tig, struggling to hold the stronger man back.

“Not the time, brother,” Chibs grunted out.

“Yeah, cool down,” Jax added.

Tig could only growl. He was offended, to say the least. He would not lay a finger on Erin, much less what her father assumed of him.   
KG spit on the ground before turning away and leaving just as quickly as he arrived. Jax’s cell phone rang, distracting him from the situation. Clay turned to his right-hand.

“Figure this shit out before that crazy bastard comes in here with the law,” he ordered.

Tig nodded.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

With that, Clay stormed off inside to look for Gemma. Once out of earshot, Chibs pulled Tig away from Jax.

“C’mere,” he said.

Confused, Tig followed Chibs to the boxing ring. Tig watched his brother with concern as Chibs clapped a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

“When did ye last talk to Erin?” he asked.

Tig shrugged.

“A few days ago. Hadn’t seen her, so I called to check in. We talked for a few hours. Why, Chibby? What’s going on?” he asked worriedly.

Chibs nodded and chewed the inside of his cheek.

“What did she sound like?” he asked.

Tig’s confusion only grew.

“I don’t know. A little tired, maybe,” he replied.

Chibs nodded. He had wondered if she would tell Tig what was going on, but it sounded as if she hadn’t.

“Listen to me,” Chibs said, his tone deadly serious, “Erin would kill me if I told ye, but I don’t have a choice.”

Tig shook his head.

“Why?” he asked, “What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

Chibs’ nostrils flared. He felt awful for betraying her trust, but he trusted Tig to keep a secret.

“Do not repeat this anywhere. Ye understand?”

“Yes, Chibs! For fuck sake! Tell me!”

Chibs sighed.

“Erin has depression. I mean, bad shit,” he said, “When she gets low, she isolates. Calls it werewolf mode.”

Tig’s face fell.

“Jesus, Chibs. Why…why didn’t she say anything?” he asked, concerned.

“Tiggy, she’s not one to open up and tell ye that she feels bad,” Chibs said quietly.

“Yeah, but isn’t that the opposite of what she needs to do? She needs to talk to someone. Does she not come to you?” he asked.

Chibs shook his head.

“We used to, but she gets so irritated…she felt like it was best to shut off until it passes,” he replied.

Tig put his fingers in his pockets, slowly absorbing this new information.

“Trust me. I’ve been trying to call her,” he continued.

Tig nodded and glanced up at Chibs.

“Yeah. Me, too,” he replied quietly, looking down at his boots.

Jax slapped his cell phone closed and spun around.

“Chibs!” he called.

Chibs and Tig looked up at their VP. Jax jabbed a thumb towards the line of motorcycles.

“With me, bro. We gotta go find Ope,” he said.

Chibs nodded, then turned back to Tig.

“Tiggy,” Chibs said, capturing the blue-eyed man’s attention, “Go find Erin. She might need some rescuing tonight.”

Tig perked up.

“But if she doesn’t wanna talk to anyone—“

“I have a feelin’ she’ll talk to ye,” Chibs interrupted.

Tig nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll go find her,” he said.

Chibs patted his arm and left to join Jax at the motorcycles. Tig followed after them in pursuit of his own bike. On the way, he checked the clock on his phone. The time read 5:01. He figured there were only two places Erin could be, and even though KG had already checked the house, the store was already closed for the day. He would try the house again, hopefully finding her before her father did.

***

I was not expecting any visitors tonight, especially so soon after getting home. I had just changed clothes, pulled my hair down and brushed it out, then grabbed my blanket and laid down on the couch. I had not sat and vegetated for ten minutes before the knock came.   
I groaned loudly and violently threw my blanket to the floor and crossed the living room to the front door, grabbing my gun from the table against the wall. I peered through the peephole to see a dark figure on the porch, arm propped against the wall and a foot casually crossed at the ankle. It was hard to make out what he was wearing, but I couldn’t mistake the hair in the dim light. I sighed and unlocked the door. When I opened the door, I revealed a smiling Tig Trager.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said.

I stared at him in surprise.

“Tiggy,” I said.

He gave me a guilty smile, pushing himself off of the wall.

“Sorry for surprising you. I tried to call but I couldn’t get through,” he said.

I nodded and stood to the side.

“Yeah, I turned it off. Come in,” I replied.

Tig shuffled inside and I closed the door behind him. Tig had been over several times before. Most of the time to come in quickly, and on occasion to hang out. Have dinner or a drink. Talk for hours. It had become routine, and after days of spending time with myself, I didn’t realize what a relief it would be to see him.  
Tig followed me through the living room and into the kitchen. I caught him observing the messes littered through the house. He knew I kept a clean home, so the sight of blankets and dishes piled up, mail strewn all over the kitchen table, and a sink full of even more dishes was a huge red flag. 

“You want anything to drink?” I offered.

Tig shrugged.

“Nah, that’s alright,” he replied. 

I nodded and made myself a glass of water.

“Why did you turn your phone off?” he asked.

I turned off the sink and returned to him with my cup.

“Guess I just needed to turn the noise off,” I said.

Tig turned to the side so I could pass by him and walk back to my nest on the couch. I grabbed my blanket out of the floor and settled into the corner of the couch.

“Yeah. I get that,” he replied.

I picked at my nails. He remained standing, hands on his hips.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

I shrugged. I was too exhausted to reply.

“Fine,” I murmured.

Tig’s eyebrows knitted together. 

“Don’t lie to me, Erin. Come on,” he said gently. 

I watched as he squeeze between the couch and the coffee table and sat down on the table in front of me.

“Come on,” he repeated, taking my hands.

“Tig,” I said, unable to raise the volume of my voice.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

I looked up to see his bright blue eyes trained on me, concern etched into his features.

“Erin, please,” he pleaded, “Now, I may not look like it, but I can be a damn good listener. Talk to me, sweetheart.”

My resolve broke. I didn’t want to tell him. I didn’t even know how to begin to explain what was wrong. 

“No, you won’t understand,” I argued.

Tig sat up straight, hands never letting go of mine.

“Try me,” he challenged. 

I had to smile at that. 

“Okay,” I replied in defeat, “It’s just sometimes I get just…really down, you know? The past few days have just felt like a black hole. I don’t know how to explain it right.”

Tig just nodded, hanging onto my every word.

“I hear ya loud and clear,” he assured me, “Go on.”

“I used to talk to Chibs about it, but he really didn’t understand. Bless his heart. He tried. He really did. I just decided to lock myself away until it passes. It eventually does,” I replied.

Tig squeezed my hands. 

“Don’t you think shutting everyone out makes it worse?” he asked. 

I shrugged. 

“The only person that gets hurt if I go silent is me. No one gets hurt or lashed out on if I’m not talking,” I replied.

Tig’s tune changed, and he set his jaw.

“That’s where you’re wrong. People miss you. I miss you,” he said.

I felt my eyes start to water and I had to look away from him.

“I didn’t want you to know, Tiggy. No one needs to see this shit. I mean, look at me! I’m a mess,” I argued.

What came out of Tig’s mouth next had me stunned, and he had said it so low and so quick, I nearly missed it. 

“You still look beautiful to me.”

I gulped and felt my jaw drop. Tig froze, realizing what he had said. He kept his eyes cast down for a moment as we sat in deafening silence. He let his shoulders fall as he sat up straight, then locked his eyes back on mine.

“I want to help you. Whatever this is, let me help you. Turn your phone back on. Come back to me, because seeing you hurting like this? I don’t care if I see you all dolled up or in your pajamas. I just want to see you. Because, listen. If there comes a day where I have to kick down that door and you’re not breathing…I just, uh, don’t wanna even think about it. Okay? I need you, Erin.”

I was absolutely speechless, but the tears immediately spilled over. Tig cupped my face in both of his large hands and wiped his thumbs beneath my eyes. He searched my eyes for a moment. 

“I’m here, okay?” he asked. 

I nodded, gripping the leather cuffs on his wrists. 

“Okay,” I whispered. 

Tig tucked my stringy hair behind my ears, keeping his eyes on me.

“Okay,” he said, then tugged on my arms, pulling me into a hug. 

Tig switched from the coffee table to the couch, damn near pulling me into his lap. I climbed up him, wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and finally the dams burst, every ugly emotion that had been growing for some time releasing. I bawled into the collar of his dark blue button-up. He rubbed his cheek against mine, holding me steady to his chest with no intentions of letting me go. Tig rocked me, lightly whispered that I was okay and it was okay. Two things I had desperately needed to hear.   
When I came down, apologizing for the wet patch on his shirt that he did not seem to care about, I leaned back so I could look at him. His eyelids were heavy, a smile playing on his lips. 

“One condition,” I said. 

“What’s that?” he asked. 

I tentatively reached up to touch his cheeks. His eyes never left mine.

“Don’t you dare get killed on me,” I said.

Tig chuckled. 

“Promise,” he replied. 

I did not even realize what happened next until it was nearly finished. Tig wasted no time in closing the space between our mouths. My heart fell into my lap and ceased to beat. Tig’s kiss was gentle, but firm, and when it was over, it was as if nothing had happened. 

“Let’s order take-out. Get into a happier headspace,” he suggested.

I numbly agreed, and Tig happily called in a pizza.

My head reeled throughout dinner, but my mood steadily climbed as we shared a pizza and watched a movie. It was late when my eyes finally started to get heavy. However, before I could tell Tig I was going to bed, and whether he wanted to crash here or leave was up to him, he had kicked his boots off, his kutte strewn across an armchair, and was laying behind me. I turned around to see him smile, then hold his arms out. I smiled and scooted up against him, his body dwarfing me. Tig’s heavy arms wrapped around me, leaving me nearly no wiggle room. I placed a hand on his chest, feeling my cheeks flush. The man was built like an ox. All muscle. 

“So what is this, then, Tigger?” I asked. 

Tig shrugged.

“I don’t know. I do know what I want it to be, though. I know I want you by my side. I know I want it to work. I’ve never been good with this kinda shit, though,” he admitted. 

I nodded, distracted by the strange spiral pendant dangling from the silver chain on his neck. I reached up and gently examined it. 

“Well, I know I’ve had a crush on you for the past year,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks burn. 

Tig chuckled. 

“Oh, baby, I already knew that,” he quipped. 

I laughed and swatted his shoulder. 

“You’re not so subtle, either, mister!” I retorted.

Tig just grinned.

“I know it,” he laughed. 

We settled into silence, the TV playing on low volume in the background as the movie credits rolled. My eyes finally closed. In my half-asleep state, I felt Tig wriggle an arm to grab the remote, turn the TV off. Then, he pulled the blanket up, and we were out.


	5. Tig's Demons

**Six Months Ago…**

Tig was prone to doing stupid and crazy shit. That much had been obvious when we first became friends. He was out of his mind in the best way. I had heard a lot of the tales. Something about getting arrested for indecent exposure in a livestock trailer. Clay telling me about Tig’s certain fascination with horses. I did not dare ask, for I didn’t want to know. There was also a rumor that came up every once in a while about Tig having necrophilia. Again, I never asked. However, it was something the boys constantly teased about Tig. Tig had even joked about it himself. Even incest had come up, again, as a comeback to the teasing. It made me wonder if it was all true, or if this was something he would default to when being picked on. It was as if he had to take it to an extreme to come out of an argument on top. Regardless, it was clear Tig’s past was very dark. I had a feeling his childhood had been less than happy. I kept in mind that he probably had a lot of demons, and I worked with that.   
When Tig and I first became friends, I took Gemma’s lead on how to act when he said something crude. I rolled with it, but I noticed he never acted nasty around Gemma. In fact, he was the opposite around me and Tara. He was still friendly. Had to have an arm around the shoulders or leaning on someone. It was well known throughout the club that Tig loved women. All women. However, when it came to friends, wives, Old Ladies, or whoever, that “guy talk” was out the window. He was gentle and protective and goofy. He often reminded me of a puppy. He had the eyes and eyebrow action down. He could and most often did get away with murder with just a facial expression.   
Maybe it was that motherly instinct Gemma had. Maybe it was complimenting his need for touch. Either way, he loved being hugged on. Kissed on. Didn’t matter to him. Sex was his favorite, and during our strange relationship, we never fully got to that point. He managed to stop himself, which, according to both Jax, Chibs, and Gemma, that was unheard of for Tig. I had assumed he was getting his dick sucked from some Crow Eater, or porn slut. Whoever. But that had not been the case, either. We saw each other every day. He’d stop by to pick me up or drop off lunch on my work days. We were nearly always together, or at least accompanied by Chibs. We were inseparable, the three of us. Still, there were some things I found a little strange about Tig that I found myself asking about while helping for a club dinner at Gemma and Clay’s house.

“Can you grab that bag of ice, baby?” Gemma asked as we were setting up the kitchen. 

Some of the Crow Eaters that Gemma liked, or at least, trusted, were getting the table ready. Some were setting up another table for the crockpots. I grabbed the bag of ice that had been placed by the back door and carried it to her. She thanked me and took it, setting it on the counter so we could start scooping ice for drinks. 

“One of the girls made a spiked cranberry punch,” she said, then eyed me as she stuck a red Solo cup into the bag, “I know how much you like your mixed pussy drinks.”

I laughed as I took a cup from the stack and helped her fill. 

“Chibs could never get me to drink whiskey. Much less a beer,” I replied. 

Gemma laughed. 

“That’s one thing you and Tig have in common. Vodka,” she said. 

I rolled my eyes.

“He’s tough. I can’t drink that shit straight. Not even the flavored stuff,” I replied. 

Gemma snorted. 

“Is that what happened last weekend? When you two were going at it on the couch in the office? Had a little too much vodka?” she teased.

I felt heat spread across my face and I looked down in embarrassment. It happened in a blink of an eye. Sure, Tig and I had been drinking at that club party, but neither of us were drunk. Or high. He had had a few beers. I had had a drink and was working on my second when he dragged me out to the ring with Happy, who was down from Tacoma for the weekend to help the club with a protection run. I stood with Chibs in Tig’s corner of the ring and watched him box Tacoma’s most lethal soldier. I could not tell if it was the alcohol in my system or watching that man exhibit his strength, but between the sweat and the muscle, I was on fire. When they called it quits and hugged it out, Tig came back to my side, seemingly without a scratch. Happy’s lips were coated in blood.   
Tig’s eyes fell on me and he grinned. 

“What? Ya like that?” he teased.

I growled, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and kissed him hard in front of everyone. Chibs burst out laughing, and the rest of his brothers were hollering and whistling. Tig lifted me up onto his hips, keeping his mouth locked on mine as he carried me out of the crowd. I did not realized where we were going, nor did I care. When we reached the garage office door, he set me down, shutting the door behind us. He then backed me into the couch, hands roaming my torso and lips on my neck. I laid down on the old plaid couch, mind hazed over with need. I didn’t care at that point where we were. I wanted him badly. We never even got the chance to rip each other’s clothes off when Gemma walked in. We never heard the end of that story.

“It wasn’t like that,” I said to Gemma. 

She just laughed humorlessly. 

“I’m sure,” she said. 

I ignored her and continued filling cups. I began thinking about all of the weird things Tig did. Not just his mental shit, but little things. He never picked me up on his motorcycle. Making out and groping never led to anything else. For someone who loved his bike and was as sex-driven as he was, it did not make sense to me.

“Hey, Gem?” I asked.

“What, baby?”

I paused through midway filling a cup and looked up at her.

“Tig never picks me up on his bike. Do you think that’s weird?” I asked.

It was Gemma’s turn to pause. She glanced over at me, a million thoughts in her eyes. 

“He doesn’t?” she asked. 

I shook my head. Gemma set her cup down and turned fully to face me, putting a hand on her hip. 

“Huh,” she said, “That is a little strange.”

I looked over my shoulder to make sure the others were out of earshot.

“It just makes me wonder if I…I don’t know. Maybe he’s got a Crow Eater, too. We’ve never slept together,” I said.

Gemma’s jaw dropped.

“You two damn near made a baby in my office! What do you mean? You two have never…at all?”

I shook my head. Gemma’s eyes widened, and I noticed a lightbulb go off in her head.

“Shit,” she whispered, then grabbed my hand, “Come here.”

Surprised, I followed Gemma through the house and to her bedroom, fully out of earshot from the rest of the girls. She led me into her room and shut the door, locking it. I shuffled around awkwardly, her cockatoo catching my attention. I smiled at the bird and waved a finger at him. 

“Don’t repeat a word of this to Tig. You understand me?” she warned.

I cowered under her strict gaze and nodded. She took a deep breath before beginning.

“I know there’s not another woman. I can almost promise you that. If he’s not letting you on his bike, much less screwing, it has nothing to do with you, baby. It’s him.”

I shook my head, confused.

“I-I don’t understand,” I replied. 

Gemma crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Tig had an Old Lady years ago. Back before he patched. He absolutely loved that girl,” Gemma paused, her eyes cast down for a moment before returning to mine, “He laid down a bike on the highway. She was riding with him. Tig was fine. Bike was totaled. She slid into oncoming traffic and was killed.”

I stared up at Gemma in horror.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. 

“Found out after that that she was pregnant,” she said.

I swallowed thickly. 

“Tig will fuck anything with tits,” she continued, “But I think he loves you. I really do.”

I groaned and looked away. 

“Gem,” I whined.

“Baby, that explains everything. He doesn’t want to repeat what happened last time. He doesn’t want to lay that bike down with you on it. As far as sex goes, he probably doesn’t want to knock you up. Tig hates condoms.”

I felt my cheeks catch fire again. Gemma stepped up to me and put her hands on my shoulders.

“But then again, maybe he is trying to do this right. You mean an awful lot to him,” she said, “He’s been needing an anchor for a long time. I think he’s found it.”

I smiled at that. She returned it, but it was quickly replaced by a stern frown.

“If you want him, you’re going to have to initiate it. You show him you’re his Old Lady. Love him,” she said, almost in an ordering tone.

I just nodded. 

“Tiggy’s got a lot of demons. That’s something you’re going to have to navigate. He can only be tough for so long before he shatters into a million pieces. Erin, I’ve seen it. He will take those punches and take those punches, but he can only take so much. That’s where you come in. You’ve proven you’re good for him. I can assure you he’d be loyal. I know he’d fight for you, but there’s always going to be that regret from years ago. You have to be prepared to tackle that.”

I nodded, taking in her words. Outside, the rumbling of Harleys alerted us. Gemma smiled at me.

“Go see your man, baby,” she said. 

I smiled at that, but before I walked out the door, I turned back around and thanked her. 

After that night, I understood more, and my anxiety faded, knowing it wasn’t my fault. I was shocked to hear the news about his Old Lady’s death, but I never spoke a word of it to anyone. Tig continued to shock me, however. He’d get into shenanigans only Alexander Trager could get in to. One of which had me so pissed at him, I didn’t speak to him for two days.   
The club had been on a run. I had seen Tig that morning, then hadn’t heard from him for the rest of the day. I was used to that. If they returned before 10:00, he would usually swing by the house, if for nothing more than to say goodnight in person. If it was after, he would come by the next morning. He didn’t want to wake me up in the middle of the night. However, on this night, he had had other plans.   
It had been a rough one, from what I later found. Tig had stopped at a bar on the way home. He had had plenty to drink. Next stop was supposed to be his own house. When he showed up at my doorstep at 1:00 AM, I was ready to punch him. 

“Babe! C’mon!” I heard him yell from the front door. 

I threw my robe on and stormed through the house. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I shouted as I walked through the living room. 

I opened the front door to a dark figure. I hadn’t even turned on the porch light as I ranted and threw the screen door open. Tig caught it and held it as he leaned against the wall. I flicked the light on, and when I saw what I saw next, I screamed loud enough to wake the neighbors. Tig was grinning drunkenly.

“Hey, honey,” he slurred. 

Standing there on my porch was Tig Trager wearing not an inch of fabric. 

“Jesus Christ, Tig!” I shouted, shielding my eyes after only catching a brief glimpse of…him.

Tig walked up to me, grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to him.

“Tig!” I whined, trying to squirm away.

I reached for the light switch by the door and turned the porch light back off, hopefully concealing his nudity and before a neighbor called the cops to report indecent exposure. 

“Like what ya see, baby?” he asked. 

Tig kissed me roughly and I nearly gagged. He reeked of cigarettes, beer and sweat. I could taste it on his lips.

“For fuck sake, Trager. Get in here!” I growled.

I yanked him inside, causing him to stumble a little. I quickly slammed the door shut and pointed to the hallway.

“Go get a towel! Where are your clothes?” I asked.

Tig shrugged.

“In the driveway,” he replied. 

I pinched the bridge of my nose. He had really stripped down to nothing in the driveway in front of the whole world!

“Go cover yourself. Now!” I ordered. 

Tig grinned. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. 

I turned to open the door again to get his clothes when I received a firm slap on my ass.

“Tig!” I screamed. 

Tig laughed and lumbered again. I growled and walked outside, finding his shirt, kutte, jeans, and boxers, as well as his gun, wallet, and cell phone.

“Jesus Christ,” I growled, scooping all of his items up and carrying them to the house.

Once back in, I dumped his belongings on the couch, noting how badly they stunk. I folded his kutte, setting his phone and wallet on top, then unstrapped his knife, belt, and wallet chain so I could put his jeans in the laundry. Afterwards, I went to my room to get my cell phone. Tig was just walking out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” I snapped at him as I walked back into the hallway.

“I was thinkin’ I’d surprise you, baby,” he slurred. 

I glared at him. 

“Go lay down,” I ordered.

Tig grinned, winking at me before going to my room. I flicked through my contacts list, clicking on Chibs’ name and hoping to God he wasn’t too busy getting his dick sucked at the clubhouse. Thankfully, he answered.

“Aye?” he growled, pissed he had been woken.

“You won’t believe what just happened,” I replied.

I heard Chibs groan.

“Ah, shit. What’s the matter, darlin’?” he asked. 

I stormed back into the living room to lock the door. 

“Tig just showed up, drunk off his ass, buck naked on my front porch,” I hissed.

Chibs was silent for a moment before he started laughing. 

“Are ye shittin’ me?” he giggled.

“It’s not fucking funny, Chibs! What if someone saw him?” I asked rhetorically. 

“Don’t tell me he rode there drunk,” he said. 

I moved into the kitchen and sat down at the table.

“No. Crazy ass stripped down in the driveway,” I grumbled.

Chibs just laughed. 

“That’s your boyfriend, love,” he said. 

“He is not—nevermind! Listen, can you do me a favor? His clothes are disgusting. Will you run by his house and grab him a change of clothes?”

“Right now?” Chibs exclaimed.

“Yes! I’d go, but I don’t trust him not to hurt himself. He’s wasted. It’s a miracle he got here alive,” I replied.

Chibs groaned. 

“Alright. I’ll be there,” he sighed. 

“Thanks. Love you, Chibby,” I replied. 

“Love ye, too, Erin,” he said. 

With that, I hung up and went out to get Tig’s laundry started. 

Twenty minutes later, Chibs rode up with a backpack. I let him in through the back door and he followed me through the house. 

“Was he lookin’ to get laid or what?” Chibs murmured. 

I sighed. 

“I don’t know, Chibs. Fucking embarrassing,” I replied. 

When we walked into my room, we were greeted by Tig’s bare ass, his drunken form passed out across my bed.

“Jesus Christ!” Chibs exclaimed, shielding his eyes with his hand. 

I grimaced and walked in, grabbing his ankles and turning him so he wasn’t hanging off the bed. 

“Hope ye don’t plan on dressin’ him. Motherfucker’s heavy when he’s deadweight. Clay and I have both had to wrestle him drunk. Don’t even try,” he said. 

I grabbed an extra blanket from the closet and covered Tig. The man was so damn long, I had to use two to keep his feet covered. Then, I took the backpack off of Chibs’ hands.

“Thanks, Chibby,” I said. 

Chibs reached into his pocket and produced a set of keys. 

“Found these still in his bike,” he said. 

I sighed in relief and took them. 

“Hell! I didn’t even think about his keys. Thanks.”

Chibs looked on to his brother, concerned.

“Ye sure you got him?” he asked, “He can be a handful when he’s hungover.”

I nodded. 

“Yeah. He’s done the same thing for me. I’ll be okay,” I assured him.

Chibs nodded.

“‘Kay. I’m gonna go home. Call me if ye need me,” he said. 

I nodded and hugged Chibs before wishing him goodnight. Once alone, I looked back down at Tig. I wanted to kill him, but at the same time, I saw through his charade. Tig never got wasted unless something was really bothering him. His demons would try to surface and he drowned them in alcohol. The run must have been rough. Whatever the case, he needed to be babied. I could do that.   
I climbed into the other side of the bed, slipped under the covers, then lifted his head and put it on my stomach so his neck had a little support. He didn’t stir. In fact, he seemed to relax a little. His hair was a grease pit, but I ran my fingers through his curls anyway, letting the kinks twist through my fingers.

“Shit-head,” I grumbled before falling asleep. 

***

Tig had not heard or seen Erin since his little drunken incident. He woke up in her bed alone, finding a bottle of water, a bottle of aspirin, and a note on her nightstand. 

“ _There’s an extra change of clothes in the back pack. Your clothes from last night are in the dryer. Help yourself to the fridge. -Erin_ ”

He had no idea how he got to her house, much less why he was completely naked in her bed. However, judging by the pounding in his head and the revolting taste in his mouth, he knew he had gotten absolutely hammered. He was thankful she had looked out for him. Even going as far as getting him a change of clothes. However, he knew he had done something wrong. He just had that feeling.  
Tig called Erin throughout the day. He did not dare show up at the store. He knew her phone was on silent, but it never stopped her from answering. Finally, he texted her, hoping that she would call.

“ _Hey baby. thnx for looking out for me. I appreciate it. I don’t remember shit from last nite. I’m sorry if I did anything or said something bad. call me._ ”

Two hours went by before he received a reply. 

“ _Welcome._ ”

Tig, who was sitting at the bar with Clay at the clubhouse, groaned and let his phone clatter to the table. Clay grinned.

“Problems with the lady?” he asked. 

Tig rolled his eyes. 

“It would seem so, brother.”

Clay laughed and chomped on his cigar. Jax, Opie and Chibs walked in, Jax with a big grin on his face.

“How ya feeling, brother?” he asked Tig. 

Tig sneered. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tig asked. 

Opie smirked. 

“Heard you went streaking last night,” he said. 

Tig was taking a swing of his beer when he choked and spit it across the bar top.

“I did WHAT?” he barked. 

Jax and Opie giggled and kept walking. Chibs, however, was not so amused. 

“Ye showed up at Erin’s piss-face drunk with no clothes on. It’s fuckin’ miracle ye didn’t lay your bike down, much less Erin lettin’ ye walk,” he said sternly. 

Tig’s jaw dropped. 

“I did not!” he said in shock. 

“Aye, ye did,” Chibs replied. 

Tig propped his elbows on the bar and covered his face.

“Fuck!” he shouted. 

“No wonder she ain’t taking to you,” Clay said, then stood up from the bar and made his way to the chapel. 

Tig wiped his face and looked sheepishly up at Chibs. 

“She probably hates me now,” he said. 

“No, but I suggest ye give her a few days. It’s one thing to show up drunk. It’s another to embarrass the fuck outta her,” Chibs growled. 

Tig nodded. 

“I’m a bastard,” he said, “God! There’s no telling what I said to her!”

Chibs shrugged. 

“Dunno. She called me. Had me bring over a change of clothes for ye. We found ye passed out cold, ass up on her bed,” he explained. 

Tig closed his eyes, furious with himself. 

“Goddammit,” he muttered, “I’m sorry, brother.”

Chibs nodded and patted Tig’s shoulder, accepting the Sergeant at Arms’ apology. 

“Don’t let it happen again,” he said. 

Tig nodded. He had to find a way to apologize. Of course, he had been down this road before with Erin, only she had been the one who was drunk. She had been miserable after the fact, constantly apologizing for him having to hold her hair while she vomited, or keep an icy rag on her head. Made sure she had something to eat. He wanted to take care of her. That was all that mattered to him. He would give her those few days, but he decided it was time to take a new step.   
The next step came in the form of a phone call at TM. Tig was working in the garage, helping to change a tire when Gemma popped in. 

“Tigger!” she called. 

Tig set his breaker bar on a tool box and walked over to her. 

“What’s up?” he asked. 

Gemma sighed.

“Just got a call from Erin. She’s broken down at some rinky-dink gas station in south Charming. Needs a tow. Do you wanna do it, or should I send a Prospect?”

Tig shook his head. 

“I’m on it. I don’t trust that weasel, anyway,” he said. 

Gemma smiled and dropped the truck keys in his hand.

“Go rescue your girl, Tiggy,” she said. 

Tig beamed and spun around to grab a few tools before heading out to the truck. 

***

I leaned against my back bumper, nursing a gas station coffee and a migraine. The painkillers I had taken did not help, nor did my car deciding to take a shit. I had been having hell all morning, and to add to it, now I had to catch a ride to TM, risking seeing Tig. I was at the point of breaking things. I still needed to run some errands. My day off was already ruined now that they were going to be pushed several hours back. Maybe days, depending on what was wrong with my car. To top it all off, this wasn’t going to be cheap.   
When the truck pulled in, I didn’t pay attention to who was driving. When they rolled the window down, my heart skipped.

“Hey, beautiful,” Tig said cheerfully.

I straightened up and glared at him. I wanted to punch him for being so happy this early in the morning, yet at the same time, I melted.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, not meaning to sound hateful, but in my enraged state, there was no other way to say it.

Tig mock scoffed.

“I came to rescue you, of course,” he said, tone still light. 

He was trying so hard to get me to crack a smile. I wasn’t in the mood. I wasn’t really mad at him for coming, nor was I mad at him for the stunt he pulled the other night. In fact, I was not in the mood for any social interaction. I just wanted to go home.  
Tig shut the truck off and opened the door. I crossed my arms over my chest, but I did not dare advance toward him. Any sort of movement made me feel nauseous. Tig walked up to me, cupped my cheek and kissed me gently. The moment I smelled him, I was putty, much less from him kissing me. He smelled like the ocean, mixed with something citrusy. It soothed the pain that radiated from behind my eyes. However, when I didn’t kiss him back, he grew alarmed.

“What? You still mad at me? Look, baby. I’m really sorry. I was out of it. I don’t even remember, but I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” he pleaded. 

I nodded. 

“I forgive you. It’s just been a rough morning. I’m not in the mood,” I explained. 

Tig tucked my hair behind my ears.

“Okay. Let’s just get your car back,” he said softly. 

I nodded. Tig kissed my forehead, then returned to the truck so he could get my car hooked up.  
Once loaded up, I climbed in beside Tig, curling up in the massive seat and closing my eyes, trying to keep from gagging from the odor of diesel and blinding sunlight. Tig did not say anything, his focus on towing the car safely into the street. Once straight, he relaxed and turned the radio on. The moment I heard heavy metal blasting, I couldn’t take it much more. 

“Tig, please. Turn that off. I can’t with noise this morning,” I said.

“Okay, okay,” Tig said, turning the radio back off.

He glanced over at me, noticing that something was wrong.

“Baby, what’s the matter? Talk to me,” he pleaded, “Are we in the bad place?”

I straightened up and shook my head.

“No, I have a headache,” I replied. 

Tig cringed. 

“I got some Advil,” he offered.

I shook my head.

“Tried that. The only thing that ever works anymore is pot,” I said.

Tig cut his eyes at me.

“I thought you were trying to break that habit?”

“I am. I haven’t touched the shit in weeks,” I replied. 

Tig nodded.

“Okay. Well, when we get back, go lay down in the apartment while I look at your car. I’ll make sure no one bothers you,” he said. 

I felt my heart lift at that. The apartment was always cold, and laying down sounded like heaven. 

“Okay,” I said.

Tig sensed my spirits lifting and smiled. He reached over and took my hand. I gave in and held it.

“How about tonight we head out? Grab a bite? Get something to drink?” he asked. 

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Like what? A date?” I asked in disbelief. 

Tig smiled warmly and shrugged. 

“Whatever you wanna call it. I just want to spend some time with you. Maybe it’ll make you feel better,” he replied. 

I melted in my seat, the smile coming on and never leaving. 

“Okay, Tiggy. Where to?” I asked. 

Tig shrugged. 

“That seafood bar or whatever it was? The one we went to last time?” he asked.

I gasped. 

“That place down by the reservation? That had the shrimp?” I asked.

Tig nodded. I grinned.

“I’m in,” I agreed. 

Tig laughed and squeezed my hand. 

***

Tig and I both eventually fell asleep in the apartment that afternoon. The clubhouse was relatively quiet, with only faint sounds of people talking down the hall and a motorcycle passing by every once in a while. The sounds were enough to lull me to sleep, even with Tig’s heavy breathing in my ear. We spooned for around an hour and a half before my headache finally faded and I was able to open my eyes. Tig had an arm around my waist, his nose buried in my neck. His chest was pressed against my back, his body heat enough to keep my comfortable without a blanket. When I woke up, the sun was setting, and Tig was fast asleep.

“Babe,” I said softly, trying not to startle him.

Tig sniffed sharply and buried his face in my shoulder.

“Tiggy,” I said, a little bit louder. 

Tig grunted as he roused. I turned my head to see him raise his, his eyes nothing more than slits as he came to his senses.

“Mmm,” he grunted, “Hi, baby.”

I smiled and rolled on my back. He smiled down on my and loomed over me, cupping my cheeks and brushing my messy hair out of my face.

“How ya feeling?” he asked. 

I smiled.

“Better. Starting to get hungry. How about you?” I asked. 

Tig’s eyes widened. 

“Starving,” he replied. 

I laughed as he leaned down closer. I took his goatee gently between my fingers, coaxing his head closer.

“I’m sorry about this morning. I was awful,” I apologized.

Tig shook his head. 

“No, baby. You were in pain. I was being a shit-head. It’s okay,” he replied.

I laughed at that and cupped his cheek, kissing him softly. 

“How’s the car?” I asked. 

Tig shrugged. 

“I was really hoping it was the battery. Bad ignition,” he replied.

I groaned.

“Is it fixable?” I asked.

“Oh yeah! Not a big deal. You’re vehicle-less for a while, though,” he said. 

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and nodded. I didn’t dare ask about the bill.

“I’ll drive ya if you want,” he offered. 

I smiled at that. 

“Thank you, Tiggy.”

He kissed me once more before taking me by the hands and guiding me to sit up.

“Easy,” he said softly. 

I sat up and swung my legs around before standing with him. He watched me with concern, waiting for my headache to return.

“I’m good,” I said.

Tig grinned. 

“Good. C’mon. I have something I wanna show you,” he said. 

Curious, I took his head as he led me out of the apartment. When we emerged from the mouth of the hallway, the guys gave us questioning looks. 

“What the hell have you two been up to?” Bobby asked as we passed. 

Tig snapped his fingers at the club Secretary.

“Hey! None of that! Have some damn respect!” Tig snapped. 

Opie made a whipping sound, making the guys laugh. We ignored them.

“You got that thing I asked you for or what?” Tig demanded. 

Bobby laughed and walked to the office behind the bar. Tig and I followed. Bobby reemerged with a helmet, handing it to me. I stared at it in shock. 

“Wait. What?” I asked. 

Tig smiled. 

“You’re not opposed to riding with me, are ya?” he asked. 

I beamed at that. I knew how much trust he was putting into me as much as himself asking me to ride, knowing what I knew about what happened to his Old Lady. 

“Hell no!” I said excitedly, putting the helmet on. 

Bobby laughed, then cut his eyes at Tig. 

“Ride safe. No streaking,” he said.

Tig flipped him off, then towed me out the door. 

I couldn’t say I wasn’t nervous about riding with him, but as soon as we hit the road, I realized he was actually a more careful rider than Chibs was, and as I held onto him as we traveled the country highway to the outskirts of the Wahewa Reservation, I felt like I was flying. When we stopped at a stop sign, Tig put his long legs down to balance the bike. He looked at me over his shoulder and smiled.

“You okay?” he asked. 

I nodded and hugged him tighter. He reached back and patted my thigh. 

“I got you, baby.”

***

“I ate too much,” I said as we sat at the bar in the restaurant. 

Tig laughed and nuzzled his nose against my temple, keeping a protective arm around my waist. 

“I know,” he agreed, “Me, too.”

I wadded up my napkin and set it in my basket before grabbing my soda and sipping it. Neither of us touched alcohol, knowing how stupid we got on it, and Tig was petrified of what would happen if either of us rode inebriated. So, we settled for soda, which went just as well with his fish dinner and my shrimp dinner.

“You wanna order dessert? They have the best pie. Or are you too full?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“I could go for pie,” I replied. 

Tig smiled and kissed me. 

“‘Kay. You decide. I’ll be back,” he said.

Tig stood from the barstool and slipped between people and tables to the restrooms. I looked up at the menu mounted on the wall, scanning over the dessert options. As I did so, a man sat down beside me. I paid him no mind as my eyes found the flatscreen playing a football game just above the doorway entrance to the kitchen.

“Can I buy you a drink?” 

I jumped and looked to my left.

“No thanks,” I replied cooly. 

If there was one thing I hated, it was being hit on. Jax had tried it one time when we were in high school. I ended up in the principal’s office. He went home with a broken nose. Even Tig had never pulled that move. Sure, he flirted, but never hit on me. 

“You with that SOA fag?” he asked. 

I shuddered and slowly turned to him.

“Excuse me?” I said darkly. 

The man shrugged. 

“You’re a pretty girl. Too pretty to be hanging out with biker white trash. Club or not. You could do better,” he said.

I turned fully to him. 

“You better watch what you say next, asshole,” I growled. 

The man smirked. 

“Come on. You really like that gargoyle?” he asked. 

I saw red flash around my eyes. I had never been so outraged in my life, and I suddenly didn’t care about leaving the situation alone or even up to Tig. The bastard was a dead man.   
Before I knew what I was doing, I threw my fist into the man’s face, then yanked him down off of the barstool, grabbing the stool and slamming it into his stomach. The patrons of the restaurant gasped and waitresses backed away. Before I could get another hit in, the man grabbed me by the ankle, ripped me to the ground, and punched me in the jaw with one hand, then backhanded me across the face with the other. A ring he was wearing tore through my cheek. 

“Hey!” I heard Tig scream.

The man was ripped off of me by Tig, who went into full blown kill mode. A kind waitress helped me to my feet. I wiped the blood from my mouth and looked over at Tig. His assault he laid on Happy in the ring was nothing compared to this. He was absolutely feral, as if someone had left a killer wolf out of his cage. He kept swinging his fists through the man’s face, only taking maybe two punches from the man.

“Cops are on the way,” I heard a waitress say.

Shit!

“Tig!” I called.

Tig gripped the back of the man’s head.

“Touch my Old Lady, huh?” he asked viciously, then in one quick dunk, slammed the man’s face into a table.

I pulled away from the waitress and grabbed Tig’s arm. He jerked away before realizing it was me. When his eyes fell upon my face, his jaw dropped.

“Jesus Christ, baby!” he exclaimed. 

I shook my head. 

“I’m fine. They called the cops. We gotta go.”

Tig gritted his teeth.

“Shit! Come on!”

With that, he grabbed my hand and towed me out of the restaurant. We ran to his bike and I quickly put my helmet on before climbing up behind him.

“Did you mean that?” I asked hurriedly as I clipped my chinstrap, “About the Old Lady thing?”

Tig looked up at me. 

“Absolutely,” he said.

I couldn’t contain my smile. Tig growled and quickly kissed me.

“Hurry up, baby. I don’t wanna spend the night in jail,” he said. 

I seated myself behind him and held him tightly as we sped out of the parking lot and back into Charming. 

***

“I leave you alone for five minutes. Five!” Tig said playfully. 

We were in the bathroom at his house, me perched on the bathroom counter with an icepack on my jaw. I had already patched him up, cleaning the blood from his knuckles and busted lip. He had his first aid kit out, taking a cotton ball and squirting peroxide on it. 

“How did that even happen, babe? I said pie. Not a knuckle sandwich,” he said. 

I laughed as he leaned over me and gently dabbed the cotton against my cheek.

“He insulted you. I lost my shit,” I replied. 

Tig laughed.

“What did he say?” he asked. 

“Called you white trash. Biker fag. I saw red,” I replied. 

Tig rolled his eyes. 

“Baby, I get that shit all the time. Let me handle it,” he said, eyes focused on the cut on my cheek, “I could have killed him for a laying a hand on you.”

I just watched him, seeing anger flash across his eyes. He tossed the soiled cotton ball into the trash, then reached into the kit for a tube of ointment. I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Your kit’s more stocked than Chibby’s,” I observed.

Tig laughed. 

“I get hurt a lot,” he said, “Put that ice pack down. Let me see your jaw.”

I put my hand down and turned to the side. He gently felt my jawbone, as if he could feel a break. 

“Does it hurt to move it?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Just to the touch,” I replied.

Tig groaned and leaned over to kiss my cheek.

“That prick,” he said, then kissed me. 

I smiled and put the ice pack back on my jaw. 

“I’m beginning to think you like seeing me fight,” he said, collecting his supplies and cleaning up.

I shrugged.

“Maybe,” I replied. 

Tig’s eyes were smoldering. 

“Oh, that turn ya on, huh?” he asked. 

I smiled.

“Maybe a little,” I said teasingly. 

Tig smiled and closed the lid to his first aid kit.

“What am I going to do with you, Erin?” he asked. 

I smiled, feeling a little cocky. Seeing Tig defend me was a turn-on in itself, but hearing him call me his Old Lady, riding with him, his intoxicating smell. I was on fire. 

“Guess you’re gonna have to punish me,” I said boldly. 

Tig looked up at me in astonishment. 

“What?” he asked in disbelief. 

I grinned.

“Punish me, Tiggy,” I said. 

Tig’s prey drive engaged. He prowled over me, putting his hands on either side of my legs, pinning me to the counter. His eyes were like blue fire, and his grin had my desire climbing. 

“Baby, you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he warned me. 

I reached for his cheeks and cupped them.

“Baby, I’m counting on it,” I whispered. 

Tig, whether the nickname had ever been short for the Winnie-the-Pooh character or not, pouncing like his namesake. He grasped my face, kissing me deeply, mouth wide open to devour my lips. I moaned lightly, parting my lips for him. Our tongues intertwined. His hands roamed my body, lifting my shirt of my head. We parted long enough for me to tear his shirt from his torso, revealing his broad, muscular chest and stomach, and that spiral pendant on his chest hair. My mouth nearly watered.   
Tig growled as he kissed me again, my fingers exploring his chest and up to his neck. Tig’s fingers reached for my belt, unclasped it, then hooked his fingers in my waistband. I slipped down from the counter long enough for him to yank my jeans and panties down, then he lifted me back up onto the counter. I held onto him as his fingers wandered between my legs. I opened my legs a little bit more in anticipation. Tig kissed up my shoulder and his lips ghosted my neck.

“You sure you’re ready for your punishment?” he asked. 

I was already too far gone to think it through. I just knew I needed him. 

“Yes, Tiggy,” I breathed out.

Tig gently bit down on my neck, sending a rush of warmth through me. His index and middle fingers traced me, his thumb circling my clit. I moaned softly, white hot heat pooling between my legs. Tig growled and slipped a finger inside of me, then the next. I cried into his shoulder, letting myself adjust. I had misjudged the size of his fingers. His thumb continued to rub me, making me constantly moan into his skin and squeeze around his fingers.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he murmured. 

My mouth had been rendered useless. I had no reply for him. Tig removed his fingers and put them into his mouth, licking my juices. Then, he gripped my hips and urged me closer to the edge of the counter. I watched in awe as he dropped to his knees in front of me, keeping his hands locked on my hips. He kissed up the insides of my thighs, his facial hair tickling me. When he reached my core, he looked up at me. I felt my breathing shallow, seeing his eyes darken with lust. I plowed my fingers into his soft curls and encouraged him to me. He took me into his mouth, his tongue exploring every fold before snaking into my center. I cried out as shockwaves of pleasure surged through me. All I could do was throw my head back and try not to pull his hair out.

“Tiggy,” I breathed out. 

Tig reached up and without warning, began rubbing my clit vigorously. I locked my legs around him, shaking and unable to control the whimpering coming from my mouth. The mixture of his thumb, tongue, and facial hair brought me right over the edge. I damn near screamed as he brought me to orgasm, and he plowed his face deeper into me as I came. I had never came so hard or fast in my life.   
When I came down, he was grinning.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. 

I finally caught my breath and looked down at him. Oh, I was more than okay.

“Yeah,” I breathed out. 

I grabbed Tig by the arms, urging him to stand. As he did, I did not miss the straining bulge in his jeans. I slipped down from the counter, pushed him against the opposite wall, then grabbed his belt buckle. 

“Your turn, mister,” I said lowly.

Tig just smiled.

“Am I getting punished now?” he asked. 

I shoved his jeans to the floor and kissed him.

“Damn right,” I said.


	6. Protector

**Present Day**

“You know what?” Tig asked.

I looked up at him as I waited beside the car. We had stopped for gas at our last town before the Arizona border. It was finally starting to get dark out, and Tig, who I had forced to stay in the car all day in fear of the wrong person recognizing him, was going stir-crazy. Long legs and tiny cars don’t mix anyway. I decided we were safe enough. A quick pitstop and then he was back in the car until Flagstaff.  
Tig had gone inside the gas station to use the restroom, grab some snacks, and pay for the fill up when he walked back out.

“What?” I asked, “How much did you tell them?”

Tig held up the $20 bill I had given him for gas and gave it back to me.

“Thirty. Should fill ya up,” he said.

I sighed and took the money.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

Tig shrugged.

“Yeah, I did,” he argued.

I smiled and shook my head. Tig took the fuel nozzle off the hook and opened the gas cap. I leaned against the door and crossed my arms.

“What were you going to say?” I asked.

Tig looked confused before he suddenly remembered.

“Oh!” he said and laughed, “I was gonna say, I’m glad we got the air fixed in this thing.”

I nodded in agreement. It was been another scorcher today. Thankfully, the closer we got to Arizona, the cooler it became. It was 93 degrees out at the moment, but it felt way better than the triple digits we had come out of.

“We’d be disgusting by now,” I said jokingly.

Tig grinned devilishly.

“Well,” he began, stepping up closer to me and locking the trigger on the nozzle, “I was gonna say, it’s hard enough staying cool with my smokin’ hot Old Lady sitting beside me.”

I felt my cheeks burn. I fought hard to contain my smile, but it wasn’t happening. Especially when he stepped up to me and cupped my cheeks.

“Shit,” I said sarcastically, “You fucking flirt.”

Tig grinned.

“I know,” he said lowly.

He leaned down to kiss me, pressing me gently into the car. The pump clicked, signaling its completion. Tig parted from me and reached over to grab the nozzle and hang it back up.

“I mean it this time, Erin,” he said.

I watched him curiously as he tightened the cap back on and shut the lid.

“We’ve been on and off for the past six months,” he continued.

“Part of that is my fault,” I said.

Tig walked back up to me, now serious.

“No, it’s not. I wouldn’t put it past KG to put a bullet through my skull. You were doing the right thing,” he said.

I shyly nodded. He tilted his head to the side, fiery blue eyes studying my face.

“I want to make it right with you and your family. Because I don’t want to hide all the time. I’m too old for that shit. I want this to be stable. I want you to be mine for the long haul. Maybe even wear my crow if you want. Whatever. Because this? Being with you? It grounds me. It makes all the bullshit go away. I guess…I don’t want to spend time apart anymore.”

I let out a shallow breath. I reached down and took one of his hands, letting my thumb pass over his knuckles.

“You know that’s all I want,” I said, “I’m here, baby. One hundred percent. But I need you 100%.”

Tig smiled, wrapped his hand around mine, and held our hands up between our chests.

“You got it. Promise,” he replied.

I smiled and he kissed me again, this time gently, making my knees turn to goo. When we parted, he smiled, keeping his face close to mine. He watched my eyes for a moment before brushing my hair out of my face.

“Your eyes are bloodshot, baby. I’ll drive the rest of the way,” he said.

I agreed and handed him the keys. We traded places and got back into the car. I dug into the bag of snacks while Tig buckled in.

“You call Patty yet?” Tig asked, referring to my mom.

I let my head fall back and groaned.

“Shit! I forgot,” I grumbled.

I reached into my pocket for my phone and dialed her number while Tig cracked open a water and held it between his legs while he drove.

“Hey, I was just getting ready to call you,” my mom answered.

“Hey. Are you already at Grandma and Grandpa’s?” I asked.

“Yeah. We got here around lunch time.”

“Did Dad come with you?” I asked.

Tig cut his eyes at me.

“Please no,” he whispered.

“No, he’s got to work. I rode down with your aunt,” she replied.

I smiled at Tig.

“You’re good,” I mouthed.

Tig breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, okay,” I replied.

“How far out are you?”

“About three hours. We should be there about 10:00 or so. Grandma will be pissed,” I replied.

My mom paused for a moment.

“We?” she asked questioningly.

Shit. I hadn’t meant to say “we.”

“Uh, yeah,” I replied, “Um…Tig came with me.”

I heard my mom groan.

“I thought you liked Tig,” I said.

“I’m fine with it. You better be glad your dad isn’t coming. He’s not going to be happy when he finds out, though.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, getting irritated, “He’s not going to find out if no one tells him!”

I heard my mom sigh.

“He’ll find out one way or another,” she warned me.

I rolled my eyes.

“Can you tell Grandma for me?” I asked.

My mom laughed.

“Yes, I’ll let her know. What brought this on, anyway? I thought you were taking a break from him?”

“I didn’t want to drive ten hours by myself,” I replied.

It was the only excuse I could think of.

My mom was silent for a moment.

“It’s getting serious, isn’t it?” she asked, “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“Jesus Christ, Mom! No! But yes, we are serious,” I admitted.

Tig reached across the console and placed a comforting hand on my knee.

“I really don’t like you getting involved with SAMCRO,” she said.

“It’ll be okay. I’ve never gotten hurt on Chibs’ watch. Damn sure haven’t gotten hurt with Tig,” I said.

Not counting the fight at the bar, which I started.

“Okay. Well, I’ll tell your grandma. She’s going to have a million questions,” she replied.

“I know. I’ll see you in a little while,” I said.

With that, my mom and I said our goodbyes and hung up. Tig sighed.

“I take it she’s not too happy?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“She’ll have to get over it,” I said, “I wasn’t leaving you behind.”

Tig nodded.

“Well, that shit’s almost over with. I talked to Jax. I’ll be clear hopefully within 24 hours,” he replied.

I nodded.

“Good.”

I glanced over at Tig as the last of the street lights faded away, leaving our only light being oncoming traffic.

“What happened? Or am I allowed to know?” I asked.

Tig smiled sadly.

“I kinda…took out the wrong Mexican. Supposed to be Calavaras. Ended up being Mayan,” he replied.

I let my head fall back against the head rest.

“Erin, it’ll be fine,” he reassured me.

“Álvarez is going to have your head!”

“We were fine with Álvarez! Okay? It was the family of the guy. Things are getting settled,” he replied.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to relieve the burning. I had not realized how tired I was.

“Good. Because if someone tries to come after you and you get shot—“

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tig interrupted, “None of that, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

I looked up at him in the dim light of the gauge cluster.

“You promised, you know?” I said, half-teasing, reminding him of the promise he made when I had isolated myself from the world.

Tig smiled.

“I know, baby,” he replied.

Tig pulled my hand up to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

We were silent for a moment before Tig spoke again.

“What’s grandma gonna think of me?” he asked.

I turned my head and studied him for a moment. Tig looked absolutely intimidating upon first glance. If it wasn’t his height or cold demeanor, it was his icy eyes and untamable hair. Not to mention the rings and tattoos. I knew for a fact Grandma would look at none of that. Everyone was taller than her. What she would see were pretty eyes and curls. She would embarrass him before she cursed him and kicked him out. It made me laugh to imagine her reaction.

“Oh, she’s gonna love you!” I said teasingly.

Tig groaned.

“Jesus!”

***

When we pulled up to my grandparents house, the driveway was packed with cars. A few had California license plates, one Nevada, and the rest Arizona. We parked in the street in front of the house.

“What the hell?” Tig asked, putting the car in park and killing the engine.

I gathered our trash and opened the door.

“Bunch of cousins. Probably wanting to get their foot in the door on Grandpa’s will,” I replied.

Tig snorted.

“Greedy shits,” he remarked.

I laughed and we got out of the car.

“I’ll get our bags,” he said.

I nodded and walked through the yard and up the porch steps. The porch light had been left on, and the lamp just inside the living room window was still on. I knocked, not wanting to ring the doorbell and wake the whole house. When the door opened, my mom appeared, as well as a tiny 4’ 10” woman with large glasses and gray hair.

“Erin!” she squealed, slinging the door open.

I held the screen door as my grandmother all but knocked me over to hug me.

“Hi!” I said excitedly, “What are you doing up?”

My mom, who was standing behind her, rolled her eyes.

“Getting some prepping done for breakfast in the morning,” she said.

I laughed and stepped inside. My mom hugged me, but my grandmother was peering through the glass, trying to find my plus one.

“Where’s your boyfriend? I heard he came with you,” she said excitedly.

I laughed and shook my head.

“He’s getting the bags, Grandma,” I said.

Satisfied with that answer, she moved out of the way of the door. Tig cleared the yard and took the steps by two. I opened the door for him and waved him in. He looked a little uncomfortable, but he was never one to be shy. My mom greeted him first.

“Hi, Tig,” she said, then hugged him.

“Hey, Patty. How are ya?” he asked.

She smiled up at him.

“Good, good. How was the drive?” she asked.

Tig and I shrugged.

“Long and boring,” I replied.

My grandmother, who had left briefly to turn the lights off in the kitchen, returned and damn near tackled my mother and I to the ground. She squinted at Tig, adjusted her glasses, then smiled.

“My word! Look at all those curls,” she said in awe.

I bit my bottom lip, trying to hold back my laughter. Tig’s nostrils flared, clearly embarrassed.

“Grandma, this is Tig. Tig, this is my grandma, Joanna,” I said.

Tig smiled at her.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart,” he said.

Tig went to shake her head when Grandma decided to hug instead. I had to laugh at that. Tig was nearly 6’ 2” in boots. I just barely came up to his chest. Grandma only came up to his stomach. It was like watching a giant hug an elf.

“You, too, dear. Welcome,” she said, then looked back over at me, “What did you say his name was, again?”

I smiled.

“Tig. T-I-G,” I replied.

No one that I knew called Tig by his first name, Alexander. I had never heard anyone say it. No Al, or Alex, or any other shortened form of the name. Even I didn’t call him by his first name, as strange as it was. I had never called any patched member by their real name. It was out of respect, and I only knew Tig as “Tig” or jokingly “Tigger.”  
Grandma was a little befuddled by the strange nickname, but did not ask any more questions on the subject.

“Tig,” she repeated, “Alright. Patty, look at his eyes. Aren’t they gorgeous?”

I burst out laughing as Grandma tried to reach of Tig’s face and turn his head towards my mom. I had never in the two years I had known him seen his cheeks turn red.

“Where are my manners?” Grandma suddenly asked, “Have you two eaten? I can make some sandwiches!”

Tig and I protested, having already feasted on gas station junk food.

“Joanna, it’s late. You need to go to bed. We all do,” my mom said.

Grandma waved her off.

“You can go to bed if you want,” she said, then reached for mine and Tig’s hands, “Come on. It’s no problem.”

My mom sighed in frustration.

“Fine. I’m going to bed,” she announced.

With that, my mom kissed mine and, to my surprise, Tig’s cheeks and walked down the hall to her room. We wished her goodnight and followed Grandma into the kitchen.

“How does grilled ham and cheese sound, kids?” she asked.

Tig and I exchanged guilty glances.

“Is it bad that I’m hungry?” he whispered.

I smiled.

“I was starting to get hungry, too. Come on,” I whispered back, then led him into the dining room.

Once the sandwiches were made, and Grandma had outdone herself with chips, pickles, a box of Nutter Butters, and glasses of water, she too made herself a sandwich and sat with us.

“I was starting to get hungry myself,” she admitted.

I grabbed a fork and dug a pickle out of the jar.

“How’s Grandpa?” I asked.

Grandma rolled her eyes.

“Ornery. He went to bed early. Your cousins are driving him up the wall!”

I shook my head.

“How so?” I asked.

“Pass me a napkin, please, baby?” Tig asked.

I grabbed a napkin from Grandma’s sunflower holder and passed it to him.

“Their holier than thou crap,” she spat.

I snorted, not expecting her language. I had never heard the woman curse, much less use the word “crap.” I was amused.

“They’ve always been like that,” I reminded her, “They got money. They think they can act like trash.”

Grandma shook her head.

“Not in my house,” she sassed, popping a potato chip into her mouth.

Tig and I smiled and went back to our food. Tig was already on his last bite of his sandwich.

“Do you want another one, sugar?” she asked.

Tig swallowed and waved her off.

“No, no. This is fine. I’m a fast eater,” he said.

I snickered. He wasn’t kidding. Tig wolfed down food as if he had been starved. I often wondered if it was just him, or maybe he didn’t eat at home. Perhaps it stemmed from childhood. It was something I never asked about.

“Alright. Well,” Grandma paused and glanced over at me, “This is a surprise. When your mom told me you were bringing your boyfriend, I nearly had a heart attack.”

I paused mid-bite, taking my turn to blush. Tig gave me a mischievous grin. If I had not been afraid of accidentally kicking Grandma’s leg, I would have gotten him in the shin.

“Yeah, Tig’s….taking some vacation time. Thought this might be the perfect opportunity for us to get away. And it’s like I told Mom—he didn’t want me traveling this far on my own. Too much can happen, you know?”

Grandma smiled at Tig.

“That was very thoughtful of you,” she said, “What kind of work do you do?”

I froze and coughed, nearly choking on bread and cheese.

“I’m a mechanic,” he replied.

Grandma smiled.

“Well, then that is handy. If you have any car trouble, you got an expert with you,” she said to me.

Tig and I just smiled.

“Well, I’m going to go to bed. Make sure you clean up, and Erin, would you start the dishwasher for me?”

I nodded.

“Okay. You two have your own room. All of the young kids are in the basement, so they shouldn’t bother you. The old play room,” she said.

I nodded again.

“Thanks, Grandma.”

Grandma stood from the table and kissed the top of my head.

“We’re going to shoot for breakfast at around 8:30. We’re going to try and have the party at 2:00. That’s usually when your grandpa is at his best,” she said.

Tig and I nodded.

“Gotcha,” I replied.

“Alright. Goodnight, kids,” she said.

Tig and I wished her goodnight and waited in silence until we heard her pad up the stairs.

“How many people are here?” Tig asked quietly.

I wiped my face and rolled the potato chip bag back down.

“At least five great grandkids. Fifteen adults, not counting Grandma and Grandpa. You and me make 15,” I replied.

Tig blew his cheeks out. We stood from the table, taking our dishes and sides into the kitchen. I placed our dishes in the dishwasher while Tig put the chips and pickles away.

“Breakfast might be interesting,” he commented.

I closed the door to the dishwasher and pressed the start button.

“I’m sure Grandma would understand if we slept in,” I said with a wink.

Tig’s eyelids lowered and he snaked his arms around my waist.

“Mmm. I like the sound of that,” he purred.

I laughed as he nuzzled the side of my face. I cupped his cheeks and kissed him.

In the living room, my phone, which had been left in my bag, rang shrilly.

“Ah, shit!” I hissed, breaking away from Tig.

“Who the fuck is calling at 11:00 at night?” he murmured, annoyed.

“Probably Chibs. I forgot to text him,” I replied, then moved quickly to the front of the house to grab my phone before we woke the house up.

“Ah, hell. I forgot, too. He probably thinks we’re dead,” Tig said, following me back into the living room.

I grabbed my phone out of my bag on the coffee table and looked at the screen. When I didn’t see Chibs’ name, my heart dropped.

“Who is it?” Tig asked worriedly.

I locked my phone, silencing the call. Anger sizzled through me, making my face burn.

“Text Chibs and Jax. Let them know we’re okay,” I said.

Confused, Tig fished his phone out of his pocket.

“Who was that, baby?” he asked.

I sighed.

“My dad,” I replied.

Tig’s lip curled.

“What the hell?” he asked, “He knows you’re here. Why is he calling you this late?”

I shook my head.

“I don’t know, but I am getting sick of this shit,” I whispered.

I gathered our bags from the table and led him to the hallway.

“Is he on that ‘I need to know where you are at all times’ bullshit again?” he asked.

I walked inside the old playroom where me and my cousins used to watch movies and build forts. Now, it was converted into a bedroom, with photos of the family decorating the walls, along with Grandma’s book collection and a few handmade dolls. Tig saw them immediately and backed into the wall as if he had been electrocuted.

“I got ‘em,” I assured him.

“Erin, you put those things in the closet and don’t take them back out!” he ordered through clenched teeth.

I smiled and collected the dolls from the shelves, then placed them gently inside the closet. I had forgotten about Tig’s doll phobia.

“Why do people even have those things?” he continued, sitting down on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.

I closed the closet door and joined him on the bed.

“I’ll protect you, Tiggy,” I said teasingly.

I walked on my knees across the bed, scooting behind him and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He smiled warmly and turned his head to kiss me.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs protecting,” he said solemnly, “If KG is one that kick again…”

“I’m 33 fucking years old. He can’t control me,” I said.

Tig sighed and cut his eyes at me.

“Doesn’t mean he won’t try,” he said lowly.

Tig turned in my arms, wrapped his arms around my waist, then lifted me and laid me across the bed.

“I got you, baby,” he whispered.

I smiled up at him. We slipped out of our clothes, far too tired to do much else and too scared neighboring family would hear us if we wanted to mess around. I settled peacefully against his chest, Tig’s even breathing lulling me to sleep.


	7. A Favor for a Dying Man

I had not realized how exhausted I was until I was jolted awake. I had missed Tig getting up and slipping out to shower, as well as him coming back in and getting ready for the day. I had missed the clanging of plates and pans from breakfast and the sounds of my family moving throughout the house. I was dead to the world until someone violently knocked on the door. I snorted and looked around wildly, trying to remember where I was and why I was there.

“Jesus Christ!” I grumbled. 

Tig, who had already gotten dressed, moved toward the door. 

“I got it,” he said softly.

I pulled my covers up closer, not wanting whoever was knocking to see that was not wearing an inch of clothing.   
When he opened the door, my mom appeared.

“Good morning,” she said, “Are you two going to sleep all day?”

Tig smiled sheepishly. 

“Sorry. I know we missed breakfast,” he said.

My mom waved him off.

“It’s fine. Joanna has leftovers in the fridge,” she replied, then turned to me, “You need to call your dad back. He’s been up my ass all morning.”

I rolled my eyes.

“What does he want?” I asked, “You didn’t tell him Tig was here, did you?”

“Erin, I didn’t tell him anything. I told him you got in late last night and that you were asleep. He probably wants to make sure you got here safely.”

“But you just told him I was here,” I argued. 

“Just do it,” she argued back, “Now, everyone except a few of your aunts went to the park. They’re taking the kids swimming. Grandma is getting your grandpa ready. So, you guys can relax until the party. Just get up and make an appearance for your grandparents.”

I just nodded. Satisfied, Mom shut the door. 

“They’re the only people I wanna talk to, anyway,” I murmured. 

Tig smiled and walked over to the bed. I smiled up at him as he prowled over me.

“Good morning,” he said lowly. 

“Morning,” I replied. 

Tig leaned down and slowly kissed me. I reached for the collar of the shirt he had chosen. 

“Well, look at you,” I said. 

Tig rolled his eyes. He always dressed nice unless he was working in the garage. Long or short-sleeved button ups, usually with no patterns, or black t-shirts. Black or dark blue jeans. His kutte usually on top. I had never seen him wear a pattern, though. 

“Since when do you wear plaid?” I asked, studying the blue plaid shirt. 

Tig mock scoffed.

“I can’t wear plaid?” he asked, “I wanted to dress nice for the party. What do you think?”

I smiled and fixed the flap on his breast pocket. 

“You look very handsome, baby,” I said softly. 

Tig smiled and leaned down to kiss me. 

“Thank you, baby. You know, you don’t look so bad yourself,” he said. 

Before I could react, Tig reached under the covers, grabbing my sides and making me squeal. I burst out laughing and rolled onto my stomach, trying desperately to get out of his grasp. 

“Stop! Stop it, Tiggy! Before Grandma comes knocking next!” I giggled. 

Tig gave in and flopped down beside me. 

“Shit-head,” I said playfully.

Tig laughed and kissed my cheek.

“C’mon. Let’s get something to eat. Go flirt with Grandma,” he said jokingly. 

I laughed and shook my head. Tig swung his legs around and stood back up.

“You gonna flirt your way into her heart, Tigger?” I asked.

Tig shrugged and reached for the belt he had draped over a chair. 

“Hey! She started it!” he retorted. 

I just shook my head and got up to get dressed.

When we finally emerged from the bedroom, our presence was met with awkward silence by my mother, Grandma, and three of my aunts who were sitting in the living room talking. My aunts’ expressions varied from surprise to shock. My mother was unfazed, and Grandma smiled. 

“Morning,” I said awkwardly.

Tig stayed behind me, though if he could have, I feel like he would have ducked. 

“Good morning,” the room repeated. 

I kept my eyes focused on Grandma.

“Sorry we missed breakfast,” I apologized.

Grandma waved me off. 

“You two were exhausted. I understand. There’s leftovers in the refrigerator. Coffee’s still hot. Help yourselves,” she said. 

Tig and I nearly bolted out of the room. 

“That wasn’t awkward or anything,” Tig murmured. 

I shook my head. 

“Had to face the music some time,” I replied. 

We walked into the kitchen and warmed up some leftovers, not daring to dirty up the table. We stayed confined to a corner of the kitchen where we were out of hearing range of the front room, eating off of the counter. I perched myself on top of the counter while he stood beside me.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” I asked. 

Tig shrugged.

“Aside from all the phone calls,” he said around a mouthful of food. 

I laughed and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey,” I said.

Tig paused, looking like a cartoon character with wide, spooked eyes and loaded cheeks. 

“You are going to choke. Slow down. No one is going to take your food away,” I said softly. 

He slowly chewed and swallowed. 

“I know. I’m just hungry,” he said with a shrug. 

I smiled, but it faded when his words finally sunk in.

“What phone calls?” I asked, concerned. 

Tig cleared his throat. 

“Jax called this morning. All clear there, but uh…your dad called two more times last night,” he replied quietly. 

I stared at him in horror. 

“I got up to piss, and I saw your phone light up. He called, and then when it quit ringing, there was another missed call from him.”

I closed my eyes and growled. 

“That’s not normal behavior, Erin,” he whispered. 

I shrugged.

“Maybe he was just panicking because I missed that other call,” I said.

“Baby,” Tig whispered, looking a little nervous, “This calling you shit? Every hour? That ain’t right.”

Tig paused and took a drink of his coffee.

“I gotta tell you something. I didn’t want you to know when it happened because it would only make shit worse, but due to the circumstances, I think ya need to know.”

I tilted my head to the side. 

“Know what?” I asked worriedly.

“That day, about a year ago, when I came over. When shit was bad, you know?” he asked. 

I nodded. Tig set his fork down and propped himself against the counter top. I watched anger briefly flash across his features. 

“He came to TM that afternoon. Looking for you. I wouldn’t have said anything, but I was worried, too. Hadn’t heard from you in days. Hadn’t seen you. He jumped Chibs first. When I told him I was the last one to hear from you, he tore me a new asshole.”

Anger spread through me like wildfire. 

“Are you fucking serious?” I hissed.

“Chibs pulled me aside. Told me to go find you. That’s when I came over,” he finished. 

I looked across the room, trying to collect my thoughts. When I had finally turned my phone on, I had 87 missed calls. Around 15 or so from my mom. Some from Chibs and Tig. One from Jax. The rest were my dad. That didn’t include the countless text messages. 

“It may not be my place to say anything, but Erin, this isn’t right. Calling every hour when your mom already told him you were here? These weird kicks where he has to know where you are all the time?”

“I know!” I burst out angrily. 

Tig froze, looking hurt. I sighed and pulled him to me.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. I’m just mad,” I apologized. 

Tig sighed and cupped my cheeks. 

“It’s okay, baby. I just hope I’m wrong. I better be wrong, because if he’s trying to put his thumb down on you, I’m going to do something about it.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. 

“You know he’s tried to micromanage my every move since I broke Jax’s nose in high school,” I said. 

Tig nodded slowly, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Why?” he asked. 

I shrugged.

“He thought I was a bad kid, I guess,” I replied. 

Tig sighed heavily and dropped his hands to my shoulders. 

“That can’t be true. Not in the slightest,” he said. 

I could only nod. Tig kissed my forehead. 

“We’ll figure it out. You want more coffee?” he asked. 

I just nodded and passed him my mug. 

“Hey, Erin? Tig?” Grandma called. 

Tig and I perked up. The tiny woman walked into the kitchen. 

“Hey, Grandpa’s on the back porch getting some sun. He’s been asking for you,” she said. 

The drama with my dad forgotten, we happily agreed and finished up before taking our fresh cups of coffee onto the back porch. Grandma had gone ahead to check on him, handing him the wireless phone that he liked to use to call Grandma when he needed something. Tig and I stepped out onto the deck to see a frail man sitting in the heat with a plaid blanket over his legs, gently pumping himself on the swing in his slippers. He wore huge 70’s style frames over gray eyes, his hair (or what was left) shaved in a flat top. He sat happily with slender fingers clasped together, enjoying getting some Vitamin D.   
Grandma tucked the blanket around him, then winked at us. 

“He’s all yours,” she said, then quickly went back inside to tackle her next chore. 

Grandpa looked up at me and squinted.

“Erin?” he asked. 

I gave him a small wave. 

“Hey, Grandpa,” I said.

He grinned from ear to ear and reached for me, laughing excitedly.

“I’m so glad to see you, kid. Oh, it’s been so long!” he said, hugging me as tightly as he could. 

I let go of him and gestured to Tig. 

“Grandpa, this is my boyfriend. I’m sure Grandma already told you,” I said.

“Ha!” he grunted out, looking up at Tig, “She did. She did.”

He held a shaky hand up and Tig gently shook it. 

“Tig Trager,” he introduced himself. 

Grandpa grasped Tig’s hand with one hand and placed the other on top.

“Tig?” he asked. 

Tig nodded. I sat down on the swing beside him.

“Tig. Like Tigger,” I told him. 

Grandpa laughed. 

“Linus. It’s nice to meet you, son,” he said.

Tig smiled.

“You, too, sir,” he replied. 

Grandpa cleared his throat and let go of Tig’s hand, pointing to a metal rocker beside him.

“Go ahead there. Pull up a chair,” he said. 

Tig obliged and sat down beside him. 

“So, Erin, I guess things have been going pretty good for ya, huh?” he asked with a chuckle. 

I smiled and nodded. 

“I’m so glad you made the trip, sweetheart. You know, I love all my grandkids. And those sweet great-grandkids, of course. But, I’m happy you’re here,” he said, getting teary-eyed. 

“Of course, I’m here. It’s your birthday,” I reminded him.

Grandpa chuckled and turned to Tig. 

“Don’t tell me you two rode a motorcycle this whole way,” he said. 

Tig and I froze. How in the hell did he know Tig rode?

“No, we took my car. How did you know Tig rode motorcycles?” I asked.

“Oh, I think your mama mentioned it. What do you ride, son?” he asked. 

Tig rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands together. 

“Harley, sir,” he replied. 

Grandpa chuckled. 

“The only way to ride,” he commented. 

Tig smiled.

Behind us, Mom opened the door. 

“Oops. Sorry,” she said, “Erin, can I borrow you? Help Grandma get some stuff out of the car.”

I nodded and patted Grandpa’s arm.

“I leave you boys to it,” I said.

Tig looked up at me nervously. I gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before disappearing into the house. 

***

Tig looked after Erin as she walked back inside, leaving him alone with her grandfather. 

“I know you’re in the SOA,” he said. 

Tig shuddered. Linus smiled and pointed to his bicep. Tig glanced down at his own and noticed his club ink peeking under his sleeve.

“Kage has told me about the club,” he continued, “Don’t worry. I used to be around bikers all the time. In fact,” Linus leaned over to Tig and smiled smugly, “it’s how I met my old lady.”

Linus pointed to the house and winked, making Tig laugh in relief. 

“How long have you and my granddaughter been together?” he asked. 

Tig straightened up. If there was any chance for him to make a good impression on his girlfriend’s family, now was the time. 

“About a year,” he replied. 

Linus nodded. He looked at a flower pot on the deck railing for a moment before his focus slowly returned to Tig. 

“Do you love her?” he asked. 

Tig was taken aback by the question. The answer was immediately obvious to him. Of course he did! However, he realized that he had not loved someone since the wreck, and it suddenly hit him that he had also never said it. 

“Yes, sir,” he replied. 

Linus smiled. 

“Do you plan on marrying her?” he pressed. 

Tig nervously laughed. 

“I hope it’s in the cards,” he replied. 

Linus pointed to the door. 

“That girl,” he said, “Is a good’n. She’s the only grandkid I have who isn’t a completely spoiled brat. She’s always marched to the beat of her own drum, and she’s a good judge of character. She has never brought someone to meet the family, so you must mean something special to her.”

Tig could only nod. He did not and would never have the heart to tell the old man the only reason he was there was to hide from an angry family of a Mayan puppet club member he had accidentally killed. However, it had also not been completely out of her hands. Erin had insisted upon bringing him, not having any doubts about her grandparents minding. She wanted him with her to make sure he was safe and protected, and now that he thought about it, he loved her all the more for it. 

“Well, she’s special to me, sir,” he said. 

Linus smiled.

“Then, will you do a dying man a favor?” he asked. 

Without hesitation, Tig nodded. Linus reached in his pocket and produced a silver ring. Tig’s jaw dropped. 

“Marry that girl,” he said. 

Linus reached for Tig’s hand. Tig held his palm out and watched in shock as a small diamond ring was placed in his hand. 

“That was my grandmother’s ring. I’ve been saving it for Erin for the right time. It seems this is as good as any,” he said. 

Tig was speechless. 

“I-uh…”

“Might have to get it resized. My grandmother had a dainty hand,” Linus said. 

Tig could only nod. He closed his hand around the ring and placed it in his breast pocket. 

“When the day comes, you bet,” Tig said. 

Linus beamed. His eyes fell back to Tig’s arm, noticing the ink.

“Let me see that tattoo there,” he said. 

Tig turned his arm over and showed Linus his tattoo. Linus read the words and his eyes lit up.

“You were in the Marines?” he asked in surprised. 

Tig nodded. 

“Yes, sir,” he replied. 

Linus grinned.

“So was I,” he said, “Let me tell you a story.”

For the next hour, Tig sat on the deck and listened to Linus tell his war stories, the ring weighing heavily in his pocket. He zoned out briefly, thinking about his Old Lady. Ever since his ex-wife had waged war with him, he did not think he would have a chance to marry, or ever want to, again. He was not ready to do it again, nor would he be for a while, but he knew one day he would finally take a knee and ask Erin to marry him. 

***

That night after the party, Tig and I found ourselves back in the bedroom resting. Some of the Arizona bunch had already gone home, leaving my Nevada aunt and a few Cali cousins. All of the great-grandkids were gone, and Grandpa had long gone to bed. All was quiet after the festivities. I was laying on my side, on the bed, going through a photo album Grandma insisted on making me flip through. Tig was on his side behind me, chest pressed against my back and his phone pressed against his ear. He had his arm draped down my side, thumb gently stroking my hip. 

“I know, brother. I’m sorry,” Tig said. 

I flipped to the next page in the photo album.

“Alright…Yeah…We’ll be back late tomorrow night,” Tig went on, “‘Kay, Clay. Talk to ya later…Bye.”

Tig slapped his phone shut and tossed it, letting it bounce to the foot of the bed. I was looking at an older picture of my dad on Easter Sunday with his parents and sisters in front of my great-grandparents house. 

“You know what?” Tig asked. 

“Hmm?” I asked, completely transfixed on the old photos, having never seen them before. 

Tig wrapped an arm around my stomach and kissed my shoulder. My focus was instantly broken. I laid absolutely still as he kissed down to the crook of my neck. 

“We don’t have any neighbors,” he said gruffly. 

He pressed his lips to my pulse and I turned to putty. I let the hand that was holding my head up fall out from underneath me and rolled onto my back. Tig smiled and tightened his arm around me. 

“Don’t get me started, Tiggy,” I warned him. 

Tig’s eyes narrowed and a mischievous grin slowly appeared. 

“Why not?” he pouted. 

He reached up and brushed his hand across my forehead, wiping unruly strands out of my eyes. 

“You know why,” I retorted, “There’s no way to be quiet with you!”

Tig chuckled softly and rolled over on top of me, pinning me to the bed. 

“Tig, I mean it!” I hissed.

Tig leaned back down to my neck, and a moan escaped my throat before I could stop it. He rolled his tongue against the most sensitive part of my neck. He grazed his teeth against my skin, his facial hair tickling me. He gently bit my neck, and heat spread through me. He knew exactly how to get me going, and it was impossible to deny him.   
I put my arms around him and turned my head to kiss his jaw. Tig hummed and moved back to my mouth. His large, rough hands slipped under my shirt and up to my bra, his thumbs teasing me through the fabric. Light jolts of pleasure sparked through me. I let out a breathy whimper as his hands gently squeezed my breasts. He locked my hips between his legs, and I could feel his arousal as he rocked against me.

“Tig,” I pleaded.

“Shh,” he whispered, “Gotta be quiet, sweetheart.”

I pressed my mouth into his shoulder in an attempt to muffle my sounds. I reached up to unbutton his shirt when he suddenly froze and looked around the room. Confused, I glanced around, trying to figure out what had startled him. Tig’s eyes were fixated on the window. The blinds and curtain were closed.

“Baby?” I asked.

Tig tilted his head to the side.

“I could’ve sworn I head footsteps,” he whispered.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Outside the window?” I asked in disbelief.

Tig nodded. I looked up at the window.

“I didn’t hear anything,” I said quietly.

Tig was convinced he had heard something. He suddenly climbed to his feet.

“Lock the door,” he ordered.

I rolled over, quickly fixing my shirt and turned the lock on the door. Tig slowly moved to his bag and reached inside it for his gun.

“Are you serious?” I hissed.

Before Tig could answer, we saw a shadow cross the faint orange glow from the streetlight. Tig quickly flicked the lamp on the nightstand off.

“Down!” he whispered.

I obeyed and dropped to my knees. Tig slipped up against the wall by the window, clicking the safety on his gun off. He waited a moment before sticking his pinky in the blinds and lifting them to peer out. He checked carefully before moving to the back window to check.

“Clear,” he whispered.

I slowly stood back up.

“I know I saw a shadow,” I murmured.

Tig nodded and turned the overhead light on.

“I did, too, baby,” he said, turning his safety back on.

Tig walked back up to me put an arm around me protectively, still wary of the windows.

“Maybe it was an animal?” I asked.

Tig shook his head.

“Looked like a human to me,” he said.

I let out a shaky breath.

Down the hall, my mom called my name.

“Erin! Come in here!” 

I quickly unlocked the door. Tig put his gun behind him, slipping it in his waistband.

“Right behind you,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I opened the door and found my mom standing in the hallway with her hands on her hips. Tig and I walked up to her cautiously.

“What?” I asked.

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Your dad’s here,” she said.

I felt my heart leap into my throat.

“What?” I hissed, “Why? I thought he had to work?”

My mom shook her head.

“I guess he got a day off,” she replied, “He has every right to come see his father on his birthday!”

I stepped closer to her.

“Did you tell him Tig was here?” I whispered.

“For God’s sake, Erin! No!” she exclaimed, “Just go talk to him, okay? He’s waiting on the front porch.”

I eyed her suspiciously.

“What’s he got to say that he can’t say in front of Grandma?” I asked.

My mom snarled.

“Go out there and talk to him! Now!” she ordered.

I huffed and walked passed her, Tig on my heels.

“I told you I heard something,” he whispered.

“You don’t think he was spying on us?” I asked in disbelief.

“Erin, if he had come down here to see his dad, he would have been here yesterday,” he said.

I groaned and walked into the living room. Grandma was sitting in her recliner trying to read the screen of a phone my aunt was showing her. I could see my dad standing at the bottom of the steps through the door window. Tig took a seat in Grandpa’s recliner so he could have a view out the window.

“Erin, don’t forget,” Grandma said as I walked by, “There’s still some leftover cake if you and Tig want some.”

I smiled at her.

“Okay. We might get some here in a minute,” I said, then opened the door and stepped outside.

Dad had his arms folded over his chest.

“When did you get in?” I asked cooly, walking down the steps.

“About ten minutes ago. Where’s your phone? I’ve been calling you!” he demanded.

I rolled my eyes as I stepped in front of him.

“Don’t have signal,” I lied.

Dad snarled.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Erin!” he exclaimed, waving a finger in my face.

I numbly stared at his finger. He turned and pointed it at the door.

“I see you made another bad decision. What have I told you about those people?” he asked.

I snorted.

“What people? Your shitty sisters?” I popped off.

“Erin! I know you brought Clay’s guard dog down here! What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled.

“I was thinking a road trip with my Old Man,” I said darkly.

My dad’s face fell.

“Are you-“

Dad paced for a moment, wiping the spit from his mouth and looking around wildly.

“I knew it,” he said, “I knew that you were messing around with that prick!”

“Who gives a shit?” I barked, “What Tig and I do is our business!”

“He’s a psycho, Erin!”

“The only psycho here is you creeping in the goddamn window!” I snapped.

My dad gritted his teeth, then laughed.

“Okay. I’ve had it with you. I really have. I don’t know what gave you the idea to turn your back on me like this, but fine.”

“Turn my back on you how?” I asked.

“They’re the whole reason you constantly disobey me!”

My anger ignited.

“Are you aware that I’m fucking grown?” I yelled, “You do not run my life!”

Dad rushed me.

“I don’t give a shit how old you are! Now, you need to make a decision. Either your family, or those assholes,” he said, pointing to the front door.

My jaw dropped.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Your family who loves you, or those felons who are going to get you killed,” he said.

I scoffed.

“So what? If I chose Tig, I never have to deal with your overbearing bullshit anymore?” 

“If you chose Tig, don’t you dare come crying to me when he breaks your heart. Don’t contact me or your mom, because if you are going to choose the club over your own family, you’re not my daughter anymore.”

I felt tears of anger prick my eyes. I had never defaulted to my parents for anything after I moved out. I had gotten off of their insurances and phone plan after I found out my dad was tracking my phone. I got the hell out, and as far as the club was concerned, they treated me way better, protected me, and never asked anything of me. It made me wonder why he was still holding a grudge against the club. The only story I had ever heard was that he was riding with the pack for a toy run and a Mayan ran out in front of him, causing him to lay his bike down. Had there been more to it?

“When have I ever come crying to you?” I asked.

My dad’s face turned beet red.

“Tig,” I said.

“What?” he snapped.

I stepped up to him, feeling my lip curl.

“I choose Tig,” I said through clenched teeth.

My dad lost it at that, but what happened next caught me so off-guard, I didn’t realize what was happening until it was over. He reached a hand out, grabbed me by the neck, and slammed me against the wall of the house. As soon as my back hit the siding, my dad was ripped off of me and dragged around the corner of the house, away from prying eyes. I quickly followed to see Tig holding my dad against the wall with a gun pressed against his jugular.

“Now, you listen to me, you sack of shit!” Tig growled, “Don’t you ever lay a hand on her. Now, I heard every word you said to her. You are something else, man. This shit stops now. This gaslighting your own daughter bullshit? It ends here. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of seeing how you torture her. I’m sick of seeing her upset because you don’t know how to let your kid grow up. I would never, ever lay a hand on her, and nor would my club. That’s her family now, okay? And if you dare you anything to hurt her mom, or her grandparents, I’ll dump your ass in the goddamn desert! Now, you march your ass back to Charming, because if you don’t, I have a charter that can be here in 15 minutes, and I don’t care how they get ya outta here. You’re not setting foot in this house and wreaking havoc. Do I make myself clear?”

My dad nodded.

“You think you can just barge in on my family and start calling the shots?” my dad asked.

“I’m protecting my Old Lady and her family from a toxic father,” Tig hissed.

He let my dad go, but kept his gun pointed on him.

“Get out of here before I make a call,” he said.

My dad slowly backed away, then walked to his car and got in. Tig kept his gun drawn until he was out of sight. I slowly walked to his side and watched.

“SAMTAZ are like, four hours away,” I said.

Tig lowered his gun and put an arm around me.

“He doesn’t know we don’t have a charter nearby,” he said, then turned to me, “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”

I nodded as Tig reached for my neck, checking for marks.

“I’m fine, Tiggy. I’m okay.”

Tig yanked me into a hug. I clutched onto his shirt for dear life.

“I’m sorry, Tig. You were right,” I said.

Tig sighed and kissed the top of my head.

“It’s okay,” he said into my hair, then moved back and looked me in the eye, “Listen to me, Erin. I’m never going to let him pull that shit again. He’s never going to touch you. No one is going to touch you.”

I nodded. Tig leaned in and kissed me.

“I love you,” he said.

My heart skipped at that.

“I love you, too, Tiggy.” 

Tig kissed me once more before we turned around and walked back into the house to explain what had happened. Needless to say, Mom and Grandma were pissed.


End file.
